


Kilometer Zero

by internetpistol



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Coming of Age, Eventual Smut, Family Feels, Is Funny Smut A Tag, Just Gay Yearning, Kuroo Appears One (1) Time, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetpistol/pseuds/internetpistol
Summary: Oikawa Tooru falls in love with Iwaizumi Hajime and is dumb. Iwaizumi Hajime falls in love with Oikawa Tooru and is also dumb.Together, they are dumber.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 277
Kudos: 831





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Linear storytelling is so hard, I cried. A lot of things are canon but also a lot of things aren't.
> 
> Anyway, y'all ever been secretly in love with your childhood best friend? Damn. It's the yearning. I’m so sorry in advanced. I’m just projecting, as usual.

Iwaizumi Hajime is at the tender age of seven when he meets Oikawa Tooru and learns what his mom meant the first time he’d witnessed his parents fight. She was trying to watch this famous drama in the living room and his dad fought for the remote ‘cause he wanted to watch a basketball game. She’d yelled something like, “I can never just have my own space around here!” 

She said it really loudly too. He almost dropped his jellybean jar. He didn’t really understand what the big deal was back then, thinking, _it’s just a TV show. He missed yesterday’s episode of_ ** _All That_ **_but you don’t see him crying about it._

He’s seven years old when he gets it. Because Oikawa Tooru takes up space like no one he’s ever met before. 

That day, Hajime had been quietly feeding his pet tamagotchi, sitting at his permanent spot under the tree in the neighborhood park, when his peace was broken and shattered to pieces by the wrecking ball that was Oikawa Tooru at seven years old. 

“Woah! Can I borrow your tamagotchi?!” 

Which he says no to obviously, because he doesn’t even know the boy’s name at the time and his parents told him never to talk to strangers. 

At the firm rejection, the boy very promptly starts sobbing at the top of his lungs. After Hajime spends about ten solid seconds staring at him in shock and horror, the boy plops down onto his butt on the grass in front of him and somehow manages to cry even _louder._ There aren’t a lot of people in the park that afternoon but the few who were, are staring at Hajime like _he_ was the one who’d just done something wrong and he doesn’t know how he’d be able to explain what just happened here. _He asked to borrow my toy when I didn’t even know his name, I said no, and so he started crying like I’d just killed his puppy?_ He feels wronged, somehow. 

He huffs and crawls towards the boy, grabs him by the wrist harshly and slams the tamagotchi into his palm. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and pouts. _“There._ Now _stop_ crying!”

He stops crying on command just as quickly as he’d started, beaming at the toy in his hand. “Yay! Thanks!”

Hajime gapes at him. “Were you... _pretending_ just now?”

The boy flashes him a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Oikawa Tooru! You can call me Tooru!”

“Oikawa...” Hajime hates him already. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Hajime!” He cheers, throwing his hands up in the air excitedly.

“I didn’t say you could call me that.” Hajime grumbles, motioning to his tamagotchi. “And don’t break that! That’s new!”

“Iwa-chan, then!”

“Oikawa, no.”

“Oikawa yes!”

To his annoyance, Oikawa starts showing up semi-regularly to his spot under the tree and insists on sharing Hajime’s… _everything._ Apparently, that’s just what best friends did. Hajime’s not sure when that’d happened but as everything goes with Oikawa, he doesn’t think he has much of a say in it. If Oikawa says they’re best friends, he guesses they are. 

The more time he spends with him, the more he starts to understand his mom’s pained voice from that afternoon, yelling over a TV show. He looks at the boy next to him, reading the manga that Hajime had supposedly brought for himself and mumbles, “I can never just have my own space around here.”

“Hm?” Oikawa hums, looking up with a gentle smile.

Strangely, he can’t really find it in himself to be angry at all after seeing it.

That one afternoon at seven years old, Iwaizumi Hajime’s peaceful life is broken and shattered to pieces by the wrecking ball that is Oikawa Tooru and he hasn’t known any peace ever since. 

  
  


His parents go their separate ways when he’s ten. Hajime had expected the whole affair to be a lot more dramatic than it actually was. They both looked stressed and tired down to the bone, but not being a good married couple never seemed to stop them from being good parents. Hajime had barely ever heard or seen them fight and the few times he did, they’d always instantly calmed down, sent him to his room, and probably proceeded to fight some more through whisper yelling. Hajime knows this because that’s what he and Oikawa always did whenever they’d gotten told off for fighting too loud. 

Huh. He wonders if it’s weird that he and his best friend could be compared to a married couple.

His mom sits with him in bed and tells him that he’ll still get to see his dad on weekends and that he won’t be moving anywhere too far away, so it’s gonna be okay. Hajime is sad but not devastated, and he figures that maybe in a way, he has it better than a lot of the kids who’d had to go through this. 

“Did you know Oikawa only lives with his dad?”

His mother hums softly, running a hand through his hair. “Of course, sweetie. Tooru’s dad is our best friend as much as Tooru is yours.”

(Oikawa liked to give Hajime hell for the fact that his mom called him Tooru while he still continued to call him Oikawa. “My dad’s Oikawa too, you can’t keep calling me that!” “How about Shittykawa?” An audible, scandalized gasp. “Iwa-chan! You swore! I’m telling your mom!”)

(He does tell Hajime’s mom but in the process says the swear word too, and they both get put on time out.)

“I don’t think he thinks about it too much.” Hajime says honestly. “Oikawa says it doesn’t really bother him. He says she probably didn’t love him and that’s okay because at least his dad does. His dad loves him a _lot.”_

“He sure does. Tooru’s his entire world. But I’m sure it was the same for his mother too.” She says, snuggling her face into the top of his head. “Just like you’re mine and your dad’s.”

Hajime knows this, so he says nothing and instead turns in his mother’s arms. “Hey, mom. Why do you think Oikawa’s mom left? Do you think it was the same reason dad’s leaving? But I’m still gonna get to see him all the time, though. Oikawa’s never even _met_ his mom.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, running her hand up and down his arm. “There are many reasons why things like this happen, baby. It’s different for everyone. Tooru’s parents had him when they were a lot younger than the age people usually are when they have kids. When your father and I had you, we were prepared to take care of you. But they were young, and when you’re that young… many things can go wrong.”

Hajime blinks. “So, it was like… kids having to take care of another kid?”

She laughs. “Something like that, yes. His mother wanted to raise him but couldn’t. So, his dad took over because he…”

“Knew he could?”

“Oh… not at all.” She continued, “But he was prepared to try.”

Hajime didn’t understand what the big deal was about being Oikawa Tooru’s mom. He could probably do it. Besides, wasn’t leaving your own kid like that wrong? Hajime didn’t know much about being a parent, but he figured that was wrong. But then again, he was ten and like Oikawa would always say whenever Hajime tried to convince him that his mom probably did love him, _what do you know, Iwa-chan?_

“Hmph,” Hajime harrumphs, “I don’t get it. What’s so complicated about taking care of Oikawa? He’s annoying but it’s easy if you try hard enough for long enough.”

His mom’s eyes widen a little at the statement, looking at Hajime with an expression he doesn’t recognize, before it melts into a fond smile. 

“You know, his dad talks about you a lot. He always says he’s grateful for you.”

“Really? Why? Is it ‘cause of those brownies we baked for him last week? ‘Cause Oikawa only forced me into doing that and I’m pretty sure they tasted like butthole.”

“Hajime. Language.”

“Butt isn’t even a bad word!”

His mother relents. “He’s grateful for you because you were Tooru’s very first friend. You’re important to him. Because of you, he never feels lonely anymore.”

Hajime’s always known this but still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Oikawa had practically pummelled his way into Hajime’s life at full-speed, leaving no room for any objections. All Oikawa had done was cry, smile, speak, and that was it. All Hajime had done was hand over his tamagotchi and Oikawa had taken it as a symbol of undying friendship and wouldn’t take it as anything else. Oikawa had come into his life and left Hajime with no choice, and yet somehow made it so that Hajime couldn’t think of making any other choice than this one. Oikawa Tooru was headstrong, loud, radiant, and impossible to ignore. He was the most aggravating person he’d ever met. He couldn’t imagine himself having anyone else as his best friend. 

Hajime found himself being drawn to the boy like a moth to a flame. But he wondered if maybe he was the only moth around here or if the other moths were just stupid. There was no one in the world who least deserved to feel lonely than Oikawa Tooru. 

“He’s important to me too.” He mumbles. 

His mother’s expression is full of tenderness. “When you two grow up, a lot of things are gonna change, Hajime. But I really hope you two stay in each other’s lives. He’s a good kid and he and his father have been through a lot. You’re precious to him. He’s good for you.”

And he thinks back to his mother and father fighting in the living room over a TV show years ago, yelling, _I can never just have my own space around here,_ and wonders to himself, if he spends enough time with Oikawa, will it end the same way it did for his mom and dad? 

“He takes up a lot of space.” He says to his mom, not sure if she understands, not sure if he’s making any sense. 

To his surprise, his mother’s reply is instant. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

Hajime begrudgingly grunts in confirmation.

She ruffles his hair. “Then, all you have to do is make a little more room.”

  
  


When they’re in 6th grade, their homeroom teacher starts the morning by talking about the importance of family. Apparently, she’d attended Sunday Mass and her heart was moved by something The Blessed Virgin Mary did. Hajime is now old enough to know what ‘virgin’ means and he wonders why Mary’s mother named her that. 

She tells them to get a piece of paper and write down what family means for them and that they’d take turns sharing with the class. Hajime sighs tiredly and cranes his neck to check on Oikawa, who was only a few seats away from him. As he’d expected, he’s making a face. Hajime counts down in his head. 

Three. Two. One.

Oikawa turns to look at him, mouths, “Can I have some paper?”

Hajime snorts. He reaches into his backpack and Oikawa sends him a grateful flying kiss which he pretends to catch and throw out the window. 

Oikawa pouts before opening his own bag, taking a peek, and pausing before turning back to Hajime meekly, “... and a pen?”

“What the hell do you even have in your bag, Shittykawa? Do you just have a single volleyball in there?” 

“For your information, I’ve got knee pads and an extra shirt too, Iwa-chan, I’m not a neanderthal—”

“Iwaizumi, Oikawa,” Their homeroom teacher calls out from the front of the class, giving them a stern look, “Do you two have something to share with the class already?”

The entire class turns to look at them. Hajime makes awkward eye contact with her as he slowly reaches out to Oikawa, presenting him with a pen and a sheet of paper.

Oikawa takes it, all the while smiling sweetly at their teacher. “Uh… Family means sharing with those in need?”

“That’s charity, you idiot.” Hajime whispers.

The class quiets down as they all focus on the task at hand. Hajime stares blankly at the untouched paper staring back at him. He taps his pen against the wooden desk, brows furrowing. What _does_ family mean to him? Was he supposed to just say _‘my mom and dad’?_ She wasn’t expecting an answer that lame, was she?

She starts by calling the students sitting in the front row. The answers vary from simple things like, _“Family to me is when mom makes me my favorite food when I come home from school”_ to funny things like, _“Family is when me and my siblings fart around each other so much that no one thinks it’s gross anymore.”_ and Hajime snorts and thinks, _me but with Oikawa._

He glances at the said boy and notices that unlike the others in their row of seats, he’s leaned back against his chair, listening to the others, instead of bent down and thinking of what he’s going to say. Hajime’s eyes land on the paper on Oikawa’s desk and the pen lying on top of it. He can see words written there but he isn’t close enough to be able to read them.

He flinches when a hand suddenly blocks his view. He looks up and Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him. Hajime rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the discussion happening. He wonders what Oikawa wrote and how the hell he’d managed to think of something so fast but based on his Oikawa Tooru knowledge, he assumed it was something like, “Family to me consists of the most beautiful, caring, strongest, warm-hearted person I know… me. Oh, and I guess my dad.”

He thinks to himself that to him, family might mean the way his mom and dad are still able to sit at the same dinner table and smile at each other, because he knows a part of that is for his sake. Or maybe family is the way Oikawa’s dad plays volleyball with them in their backyard in his free time, even when they both know he’s exhausted from work. 

Maybe family is the way his mom sees Oikawa trotting into the house with him after a long day of playing volleyball in the park and smiles knowingly, wordlessly setting down an extra plate and pair of chopsticks. 

It clicks suddenly. He writes it down in a hurry before he has a chance to think about it too hard.

The bell rings before the teacher ever gets to them. Oikawa stretches, crumples his paper up into a ball, and shoves it into his bag. Hajime never does find out what Oikawa wrote down on that paper. 

He looks down at his own writing and thinks he might as well could have written, _“Family to me means Oikawa”_ and he wonders what that means for him. 

He shoves it down. The paper, he means. 

__

Oikawa Tooru is at the tender age of five when he has his first crush. The boy’s name is Giyuu and it all starts because he’d given Tooru half of his sandwich the day his dad had forgotten to pack him his lunch. He doesn’t even smile when he does it, but he feels the unmistakable flutter of butterflies in his stomach at the way the boy refuses to look him in the eye as he says, “I’m not that hungry.”

When his dad picks him up later that day, he apologizes to Tooru as if he’d committed a crime or something, but Tooru can barely hear him. He can only smile dopily up at his father as he says, “Dad… A boy gave me half of his sandwich.” 

When the car slows to a stop at the traffic light, his dad turns to look at him properly and seems to take in his son’s happy expression and recognizes it as something. He looks shocked for only a moment before returning Tooru’s smile with a gentle one of his own. “What was his name, Tooru?”

“Giyuu!” He answers cheerily, “He’s really quiet! One of the most quiet ones in my class! But he’s super smart and really good at playing tag. He’s super fast! He also has really pretty eyes and soft hair! I know ‘cause he let me touch it awhile ago!”

Oikawa Tooru knows exactly who he is at the tender age of five even when he doesn’t have a name for it yet. His father sees exactly who his son is when he’s at the tender age of five, and continues to look at him with nothing but all the love in the world. So, Tooru won’t understand yet at the time that the rest of the world won’t be the same way. But he will. 

“Tooru,” His dad says to him that night, pushing his hair out of his forehead as he tucks him into his blankets, “Do you like Giyuu?”

Tooru blinks sleepily at him and then nods. “I think he’s pretty.”

  
  


Oikawa Yuto had only been eighteen when his then girlfriend of two years had gotten pregnant. Ayamaki Aya was a good student, class treasurer, captain of the girl’s volleyball club, and had strict parents who expected the world from her. She didn’t want to be a teen mother but couldn’t find it in her to get rid of the baby. She’d said something like, “My parents are gonna kill me. I know yours will probably have your head too. But I can’t get rid of this baby, Yuto. I already love them. I’m going to raise this kid the best I can. Are you going to do it with me?”

She’d always been brave. The bravest damn woman he knew. 

When they’d told both their parents, Yuto’s parents nearly fucking disowned him. Aya’s parents had nearly disowned her. But Yuto’s mother and father had always been soft at their core. They loved him, they loved Aya, and they loved children. It didn’t take all that long for them to come around. Aya’s parents took a little longer, but they learned to tolerate him and did what they could to support him, Aya, and their son.

They named him Tooru a month before the due date. He doesn’t remember why. He’s pretty sure they’d just gone through a book of baby names and picked what sounded most right. He’s pretty sure they’d agreed almost instantly. 

He remembers how Aya would always look at him and say, “Wow, I hope he gets your face.” And Yuto would answer with, “If you want him to get my face, then I hope he gets your everything else. Especially your heart.” 

He remembers a few weeks before Tooru’s birth, she’d looked down, rubbed her belly and said, “I hope your home outside my belly is good to you, Tooru. Because if it isn’t, I’ll burn it all down.” Yuto had laughed, rested his head on the baby bump, tried to listen to his son’s heartbeat and said, “Hear that? Your mom’s gonna make this world the greatest home ever for you. I’ll just be the cool dad. Teach you how to wear condoms and everything ‘cause I obviously fucked _that_ up.” (That had earned him a smack to the back of the head.)

Ayamaki Aya passes away giving birth to Tooru. She’s at least able to hold him in her arms before she does. Yuto’s last words to her are a desperate, “Aya, come on. How am I supposed to build him that great home we talked about, huh?” Her last words to him are, “It doesn’t need to be great… it only needs to be warm.” 

Her last words ever are just, _“Tooru… Oikawa Tooru.”_

Just like that, Tooru had taken Yuto’s last name.

Yuto almost fell into despair but he couldn’t, didn’t have the time to, and knew Aya would’ve given him absolute hell if he did. Aya’s parents never really forgave him for everything. Yuto couldn’t blame them, ‘cause neither did he. He was angry and blamed himself for it because he needed _someone_ to blame and God knows he couldn’t blame his son. His parents helped him raise Tooru and still visited once in a while, taking any opportunity they could to see their grandson. Aya’s parents barely ever did, but they do send a significant amount of money every month.

He hadn’t been prepared to be a father in the first place, let alone be a single one. He’d been confident because he had Aya. He’d been ready, in a way, because he knew Tooru would have the perfect mother. He was eighteen when he realized he had to do it all alone. 

He’d wanted to run away so many times, _so many fucking times,_ but would take one look at his son and know that he could never. He would never. 

Strangely, Tooru grows up not asking a lot of questions about his mother. He seemed content with the company of his dad and his grandparents. A part of his heart hurt, knowing that Tooru would never fully understand how wonderful his mother was, how much she loved him. But a part of him felt relieved. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d be able to tell a child his mother had died giving birth to him without breaking his heart. He wanted to wait it out, just a little bit, just a little longer, give Tooru a little more time to be a child who did not know that kind of loss or sadness. 

  
  


He looks down now, at five year old Tooru, wondering where the time had gone. But still thinks to himself, maybe if Aya were here, she’d know what to do, what to say, how to raise him better. Maybe she’d know how to prepare a kid who yearned for nothing but love to brace himself for a world full of people who might not be prepared to give it to him. 

He looks down and wonders, how do you teach a five year old of cruelty? Is that something you should do?

“Dad?” Tooru mumbles, reaching out with his tiny hand, “Why are you crying? Did I make you sad? I’m sorry.” He says worriedly, wiping his tears.

Yuto shakes his head, taking Tooru’s hand in his. “No. Daddy just loves you so much, that’s why.”

“I love you too.” Tooru says, still visibly confused by the sudden waterworks. “Are you okay?”

“Tooru,” He says, making sure he doesn’t sound as scared as he feels when he speaks, “No matter what happens, you know dad will always be here for you, right?”

Tooru smiles and nods softly, closing his eyes. “I’ll always be here for you too, dad.”

“I love you more than _life.”_ Yuto whispers, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. “Good night.”

  
  


Maybe it’s the steadfast words of a father, a love so sincere that even a five year old could tell how powerful it was. Or maybe it’s the fact that Tooru did, in fact, inherit his father’s face but his mother’s everything else, especially her heart. He was authentic, he was brave, and he wasn’t ashamed to be himself in a way that not a lot of people ever learn to be in their entire lives. 

Tooru is only six the first time that Yuto is called to the school because two older kids had apparently ganged up on Tooru and called him _‘gay’_ and so he had done what he could to defend himself. When Yuto arrives, breathless and sweaty, Tooru is sniffly with a rolled up tissue inserted into one nostril with a bruise blooming on the side of his face, while the other two boys had one broken bone each. He learns that day too, that his son would grow up to be one hell of a fighter.

On the ride home, Tooru says, “I don’t have any friends.”

Yuto feels something in his chest shatter. “Tooru…”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Tooru says, looking at his dad, and for some reason he looks sincere. “It’s okay. I just wanna know… Is it wrong that I like boys?”

“Nothing about that is wrong, Tooru. _Nothing.”_ Yuto says, one hand reaching down to squeeze Tooru’s own. “I don’t want you to ever think that that’s a part of yourself you have to change.”

Tooru is silent for a moment. “I’m happy you’re okay with it… but not everyone is, are they, dad?”

Yuto feels pathetic at how put together his own six year old son appeared to be compared to him. “I’m sorry, Tooru.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t say sorry. It’s not your fault.” He says, squeezing his hand. “Besides, I have you, right? So I’ll be okay!” 

It’s the biggest struggle of Yuto’s life trying not to cry at that moment. He gathers his bearings and manages to smile. “You’re a gem, Tooru, you know that?”

At that, he simply chuckles and faces front, jutting his chin up. “‘Course I am!”

  
  


Tooru is seven years old the day he makes his first real friend. It’s only after they’d moved out of their old neighborhood and moved into a new place, one that cost less money and less travel time to go to and fro from work and home. 

“His name’s Iwa-chan! I met him at the park! He’s great, dad! He has a tamagotchi!” 

_Iwa-chan_ turns out to be Iwaizumi Hajime, the only son of Iwaizumi Kaito and Iwaizumi Misaki. With the knowledge of their two sons becoming best friends, the three start having weekly dinner dates. He learns that they’re a little rough around the edges as a married couple, but they are kind, warm, and full of love for their son. The Iwaizumi family makes room for the Oikawa family as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. The five of them all together turn out to be more of a family than some families ever are. 

Tooru’s in sixth grade the first time he asks.

“Dad,” He starts, as he knocks the volleyball towards his father’s direction, “Are you ever gonna tell me what happened to mom?”

Yuto is taken aback, catching the ball instead of receiving it. “You’ve never really asked.”

“I figured you wouldn’t give me a good answer if I was ‘ _too young.’”_ Tooru makes quotation marks with his fingers to emphasize and huffs out a tired breath, resting his hands on his waist. “So I’m asking you now.”

Yuuto finds himself left in awe, wondering how he managed to underestimate his son’s maturity time and time again. So, in the most straightforward way he can while still being every bit as gentle as he could be, he says, “Your mother was an amazing woman who loved you a lot. She passed away giving birth to you.”

He gives Tooru a moment to digest the information, but it doesn’t take all that long before he does. He only smiles gently, looks at his dad and motions for him to toss him the ball. 

He does and Tooru only says, “I figured it might be something like that. Can I have a picture of her?”

Yuto nods, trying not to get overly emotional. “Of course, you can.” 

“Oi, Trashykawa!” Hajime calls from over the fence, his head peeking out from the top, making both Yuto and Tooru flinch, “You told me to meet you at the park fifteen minutes ago, you idiot!”

“Hajime, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were speaking to me.” Yuto laughs.

Hajime’s cheeks redden slightly at that. “Sorry, Uncle.” 

Tooru snickers at him, earning himself a pointed glare. 

“How about you come ‘round and have an afternoon snack with us?” Yuto offers. “We have some leftover pancakes from this morning.”

He blinks. “I’ll be there in a sec.” Hajime says, before his head disappears from view.

Both Oikawas laugh and there’s a meaningful pause before Tooru asks, “Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I have feelings for Iwa-chan, right?” 

“I’ve known since you were seven, kid.”

Tooru chuckles under his breath, playing with the ball in his hands. “Right. ‘Course you did.”

Yuto’s expression turns serious when he asks, “Are you going to tell him?”

The smile Tooru sends him is a little too sad for his liking. “Not yet.” He says, “Just… not yet.”

“Tooru…” Yuto sighs, but isn’t sure how to follow. What was he supposed to say to that? _You won’t lose him?_ He wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t be sure. They were only twelve, after all. How could he be sure Hajime would understand him when Tooru was only just starting to truly understand _himself._

He looks back and remembers the nonchalant expression on his six year old son when he’d looked him in the eye and said, _I don’t have any friends._ This seemingly battle hardened, confident, unashamed kid who would rather be _him_ than be with anyone else. He doesn’t know what’s different now, that he’s suddenly afraid. 

_But then again,_ he muses, as he sees Hajime burst through their back door, panting, _maybe he does._

Tooru sends his father a knowing gaze and seems to understand exactly what he’s thinking because he simply shrugs and says, “It’s Iwa-chan, dad.”

“Could you guys use another player?” Hajime asks, “Wait… Actually, how do you play volleyball with three people?”

“Iwa-chan~” Tooru croons, “Are you an idiot?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Yuto understood.

_It’s Iwa-chan._

_Not having those friends back then didn’t matter. Not having Iwa-chan would._

“Hey, dad?” Tooru beams, “Would it be alright with you if Iwa-chan and I tried out for the volleyball club?”

Hajime looks up at him too, hopeful.

Yuto lets out a breath of a laugh. “Honestly? I’d be a little upset if you didn’t.”

__

“Kunimi! You could’ve gotten that!” Oikawa scolds lightly as the ball drops just slightly outside the back line after a one touch. 

“Sorry.” Kunimi mumbles under his breath.

“Ah, well,” He exhales, dramatically wiping the sweat off his forehead, “That marks the end of today’s last practice game. Good work, my beautiful underlings! I expect to see you all here early tomorrow morning— _kya!”_

He’s interrupted by a ball to the back of his head. “If you call me an underling again, that ball’s going up your ass, Shittykawa.”

Much to Hajime’s dismay, Oikawa Tooru grew to be about five centimeters taller than him. Ever since their first year as part of the Kitagawa Daiichi Volleyball Club, Oikawa had made a name for himself as one of the greatest setters the school had ever seen, showcasing both analytical and leadership skills that surpassed even their third years at the time. With that, he’d reserved his future captain seat before their second year had even started.

“How long have you and Oikawa known each other?” Their coach had asked Hajime one afternoon, after they’d won another practice match against Johzenji. 

“We’re childhood friends.” Hajime answered, not sure where the question was coming from and what it had to do with volleyball. 

“I see.” He hummed, crossing his arms, “That explains the way you two are able to read each other’s minds.”

With that, they’d both secured their spots as regulars in their first year. 

They were the seniors now, captain and vice captain, tasked with the duty of handling different brands of volleyball bastards and whipping them into shape. 

“Good work, guys.” Hajime says, slapping the freshmen on their backs with a towel. “Kunimi, if you skip dinner again, I’ll have your head tomorrow and believe me I _will_ know. Kindaichi, fix your hair for Christ’s sake. Kageyama… get home safe.”

“I call favoritism.” Kunimi grunts at the same time that Kindaichi reaches for his turnip head self consciously and Kageyama says _‘Thank you, Iwaizumi-san’_ around a mouthful of onigiri.

“Seconded!” Oikawa adds petulantly, making his way to Hajime’s side, pressing their arms together. “Iwa-chan! Don’t think I didn’t hear you singing praises about Tobio’s sets to Coach a while ago! Betrayer!”

“What the—”

“Cheater! Traitor! Adulterer!”

“Do you even know what that _means?”_

“It’s a _heinous_ crime.” He says, theatrically.

“You’re accusing me of being a married man having sex outside the marriage.”

Oikawa gasps, covering his mouth with a hand. “Did you?” 

Hajime gapes. 

He gasps again, “You _did._ Are you hearing this, kids?”

“Heinous.” Kunimi deadpans.

“Unforgivable.” Kindaichi adds, nodding with a grave expression on his face, as if programmed to do so.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Kageyama says, looking genuine as he bows his head slightly, which is concerning in a myriad of ways.

“Why are you killing me off?” 

As they walk out the gym doors together, they’re greeted by a small crowd of squealing girls from different grades, holding onto varieties of snacks and what Hajime presumed to be confession letters. All of them had received a fair few throughout the years but only one of them experienced it on a close to daily basis.

Oikawa Tooru had grown to be a campus heartthrob. Hajime doesn’t really understand why but then again, no one else had ever seen the boy spend an entire weekend alternating between shitting and throwing up from food poisoning so they wouldn’t get where he’s coming from.

“Ah, ladies,” Oikawa sighs, putting on a show of pushing his hair back and inserting a hand in one of his pockets, “You all were waiting out here in the cold for me? You’re so loyal!”

Oikawa Tooru as a kid was headstrong, loud, radiant, and impossible to ignore. Oikawa Tooru now could simply be described in a single word. _Shameless_. (A part of Hajime wondered if maybe he should stop Oikawa from going pro in the future, lest his big head get even bigger.)

He doesn’t take any of the confession letters but he does take a box of cookies.

Before Oikawa can start flirting with each of them one by one, which would probably take another fifteen minutes, Hajime grabs him by the back of his jersey, turns to look at the girls and says, “Sorry to disappoint but we’ve got homework to do, don’t we, Tooru?”

The boy harrumphs but sweetly waves goodbye as they keep walking, before turning his attention back to his best friend. “You only ever call me Tooru in front of my fangirls. Are you feeling… _possessive_ , Iwa-chan?”

“I’ll kill you.” Hajime growls.

“Don’t worry, honey! You’ll always have my heart!”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you have it.”

“Take it back.”

“Are they kidding when they do this whole married couple bit?” Kindaichi whispers, leaning towards Kunimi’s ear so the two don’t hear. “Or are they really dating?”

“You think I know that?” Kunimi retorts, “I don’t even think _they_ do.”

“Oikawa-san, can I have a cookie?”

“Tobio, my dearest junior, I love you but cannot offer you anything on account of the fact that you’re my rival.” He says, like it makes sense.

“I don’t know what that has to do with him wanting a cookie.” Hajime snorts.

Oikawa turns and pouts at him. “Maybe if you call me your favorite setter, I’ll consider giving him one.”

“If I shove a volleyball up your ass, will you consider it then?”

Oikawa shoots him a scandalized expression. “Iwa-chan… I didn’t know you were so _kinky.”_

“Can I go home?” Kunimi despairs. “Can I _please_ go home?”

“Oikawa-san,” Kageyama says, “You’re my favorite setter.”

Oikawa pauses for a moment, before turning to look at him, trying to hide the fact that he’s blushing as he goes on a tirade of, “Of course I am! As it should be! As your captain and mentor, I’d be absolutely appalled if your favorite setter was anyone else! I—”

“Can I please have a cookie?”

The rest of the walk home, Kageyama is forced to walk behind Kindaichi and Kunimi as Hajime keeps Oikawa’s hand in his to stop him from attacking. 

Oikawa Tooru had grown to be five centimeters taller than Hajime, loud, radiant, impossible to ignore, shameless in almost every way. He’d grown into all his features, standing as one of the fittest and tallest boys in their year. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he used to have no friends. Now, it was all anyone ever wanted to be. (Among other things.) 

A lot of things have changed but at the same time, a lot of things haven’t.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, “My other hand is cold too.” 

“You damn hopeless case who never wears gloves.” Hajime grumbles, before taking both of Oikawa’s hands in his, holding them close to his mouth and blowing hot air into them as they continue to walk. “What’re you gonna do without me, huh? Get frostbite?”

“Now, _why_ would I ever be without you?” Oikawa grins cheekily, but says the words as if it’s just the most obvious thing in the world. 

A lot of things have changed but at the same time, a lot of things haven’t. 

Oikawa Tooru still took up all the space in Iwaizumi Hajime’s life.

“You tryin’ to tell me that one day, when you’re married to one of your diehard fangirls I’m supposed to be living there as your housemaid?” Hajime jokes.

There’s a pause after he says that. A small one, hardly noticeable to anyone else. But Hajime notices. He always does. There’s a pause before Oikawa huffs out a laugh and says,

“What are you talking about, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa retorts, “You’d be our sexy third.”

The look on Oikawa’s face is an expression that Hajime finds hard to read and it’s not often that that happens. Oikawa Tooru has many faces, all of which Hajime had to learn to familiarize himself with against his will. He’s usually easy to read, at least to Hajime.

But whenever it does happen, sometimes around his fangirls whenever he has to reject yet _another_ confession, sometimes around the team whenever they made dumb jokes, and a lot of the time, strangely, with _him,_ he notes that one thing seems to be consistent about it. 

Hajime could tell that he does his best to hide it, but every single time, he noticed that somewhere behind that stupidly dramatic over the top facade of his, he always looked so unbearably sad. 

__

  
  


It’s only a matter of time before it happens, Hajime thinks, as he watches Oikawa leave the court in the middle of the practice match, only to weakly give Kageyama a high five as they switch places. Kageyama looked almost euphoric as he joined the game and Hajime did his best to express support, trying to ignore the way Oikawa was sitting on the bench, fingers clenched around his knees, looking like his entire world was crashing down around him. 

It’s been going on for a long time, way before Kageyama Tobio was even in the picture, but _he_ was the breaking point. He was the everyday reminder that there were always going to be people better than him, gifted in ways that made them naturally have everything Oikawa had worked his ass off for years to obtain. 

“It’s not fair, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa had whined petulantly into his knees one night, “I want it as badly as they do. It’s not _fair.”_

It’s about Kitagawa Daiichi being _one of the best teams_ instead of just _the best team._ It’s about Oikawa Tooru being _one of the best setters,_ but not _the best setter._ It’s about being able to beat all the other teams, just not Shiratorizawa. It’s about the skill he’d built up over the past three years as the captain and team setter, threatening to be overshadowed by a freshman who had it innately. 

Hajime had been the only one who’d seen Oikawa all these years and he had to admit that there was some truth to what he’d said into his knees that night, as Kageyama Tobio performed a difficult set that rivaled some _high schoolers_ in games he’d watched, as if it were as simple as breathing. 

It really wasn’t fair. But still.

“Oi Trashykawa,” Hajime warns as said boy reaches for another ball in the cart, “That’s enough for today.”

He doesn’t seem to hear him as he gets into position and tosses the ball into the air again, as if it wasn’t the hundredth time he’s done it in the past hour and a half, as if they hadn’t just spent two hours before that in training. 

Before he can spike the ball, Hajime kicks him in the back, just hard enough for him to stumble. 

“Enough!” He yells, grabbing the back of Oikawa’s shirt and dragging him towards the locker room, “You’re running yourself to the ground. You’re no use to us injured. Get some rest.”

He waits for him to argue, complain, whine dramatically, anything, but he only weakly drags himself along, refusing to look Hajime in the eye. When he pushes the boy towards the showers, he feels the unmistakable tremble of his entire body from muscle exertion. 

It really wasn’t fair. But still, this was too much.

This wasn’t new, this strange inferiority complex had been going on way before Kageyama Tobio came into the picture, but _this_ was the breaking point. 

“Oikawa-san, can you teach me how to do a jump serve?” Kageyama asks with a hopeful smile.

Hajime’s a few feet away from them, barely even hears the question being asked, but he could tell from Oikawa’s rigid posture, the dazed, foreign look in his eyes as if he just wasn’t in control of his own body or mind anymore, that he’d finally broken. 

“Get away from me!” He yells and at the same time, raises an arm to do God knows what. Hajime doesn’t wait to find out.

He makes it just in time to stop Oikawa from landing a hit on Kageyama’s shocked face, who wasn’t scared exactly, just confused, as if he didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on or if he’d done anything wrong. 

“Kageyama,” Hajime sighs, turning to look at the boy apologetically, “Sorry about this. You should head home.”

“Oh… Okay.” He nods, bows, and gives them one last concerned glance before trotting away. 

When Hajime turns to his best friend, his eyes are glassy and wide, staring into space, as if terrified of himself. Hajime can tell by the hold he has on Oikawa’s wrist that he’s shaking. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hajime asks, tightening his grip, “Why are you acting up so much?”

Oikawa doesn’t honor that with a verbal response, simply turns towards Hajime, as if looking for reassurance that he wasn’t absolutely losing his goddamn mind.

Hajime keeps his gaze trained on him for a long time, trying to communicate with his eyes that this was getting out of hand, before heaving out a tired breath and saying, “Go home, Oikawa. You need to _rest._ Even Coach told you you’re overworking yourself.”

“I _can’t_ rest!” Oikawa exclaims, ripping his wrist out of Hajime’s tight grip. “I can’t rest! I _have_ to get better! I _have_ to work harder than the rest of them if I wanna win and go to Nationals! I have to win! If not, I—”

Hajime’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. 

Yes, it wasn’t fair. But still... this was too much.

 _“I_ this, _I_ that, you sound annoying!” Hajime yells, inhaling deeply, and realizing halfway that despite his constant threats to Oikawa’s well-being, he doesn’t have the heart to actually punch him in the face. 

So, he does the next best thing in this situation and gives him a good old-fashioned _wake-the-hell-up_ headbutt.

Oikawa yelps and clutches his now bloody nose, glaring up at Hajime disbelievingly from his pitiful position on the gym floor. “Iwa-chan, what the _hell!”_

“Do you think you’re playing the game alone? Huh?” He scolds, ignoring Oikawa’s protests, “No one wins volleyball alone! You of all people, as our captain, should _know_ that.”

Hajime isn’t sure if he’s absorbing anything he’s saying or if he’s _still_ too stubbornly stuck on his own over the top ambition. Oikawa Tooru never learned how to take other people’s advice and Hajime was well aware of the fact that if he turned this into a lecture, it’d go into one ear and come out the other. 

Oikawa Tooru was the type to take up all of everyone else’s spaces and leave no room for anyone else in his own. 

So, Hajime simply says this. “Six who are strong together are _stronger.”_

To his relief, that seems to do something. Oikawa’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, before he chuckles breathily, turning his gaze down as if to let the words simmer. 

“I guess you’re right.”

Hajime huffs. “Of course, I am.”

At that, Oikawa automatically reverts back to his usual theatrical self, eyebrows furrowing as he shoots Hajime a playful glare. 

“How dare you, Iwa-chan,” He pouts, “Making your lawfully wedded wife bleed like this.”

Hajime rolls his eyes and offers a hand to help him up. “That’s your own fault for being an idiot.” Oikawa groans as he straightens his body, his glare not letting up. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Just as Hajime is about to turn around and lead them out, Oikawa pulls him towards him, Hajime letting out an embarrassingly undignified yelp as he crashes into Oikawa’s chest and feels muscular arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Shittykawa, what the fu—”

The boy ignores him in favor of burying his face in Hajime’s neck. 

“Just let it happen, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa mumbles tiredly, exhaling all the emotions of the past few months into his skin. 

In the span of their close to eight years of friendship, Iwaizumi Hajime had felt many different emotions in the presence of Oikawa Tooru. Mostly annoyance, irritation, secondhand embarrassment, blinding rage bordering on murderous intent. But sometimes, just _sometimes,_ once in a blue moon, there’s _this_ one. 

One that he still doesn’t have a name for, one that he doesn’t even know how to describe. It’s fondness, but more than that. Maybe it’s love, but Hajime wouldn’t know what to compare it to if he doesn’t feel for him the way he does for his mom or his friends. 

He just knows it’s warm without trying. It’s strong but makes him feel weak. It’s scary and new but comfortable and familiar. It didn’t happen all the time, just sometimes, during moments like this. But every time it did, it was terrifying.

“Seriously, you,” Hajime relents, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s waist, wondering why his voice sounded so shaky. “What would you do without me?”

Oikawa chuckles softly. “Two who are strong together are stronger, Iwa-chan.”

Fondness? Friendship? Love? He didn’t know. It’s not something he ever allowed himself to think about for too long. He figured that maybe it’s just another matter of making room, based on the squeezing sensation in his chest, as Oikawa held onto him tighter.

He decides that’s what the feeling is. _Making room._

It’s simply Oikawa Tooru taking up all the space he had in him, and Hajime instinctively making room for more. 

  
  


The next day, Oikawa’s back to normal and the entire team, including their Coach, pat him on the back and whisper things like, _‘Good job’_ or _‘Thanks’,_ like they all know that Oikawa’s change in mood somehow had something to do with him. Once again, as most things are when it comes to Hajime’s friendship with Oikawa Tooru, he doesn’t know what to make of it. 

With Oikawa’s change in mood and strategy, he gets stronger than ever, and in turn their team becomes stronger than ever, leading Kitagawa Daiichi the farthest and highest they’ve ever been. They’re able to beat almost every team, just not Shiratorizawa. And while it’s frustrating to the point that not only Oikawa is frustrated, he does win the Best Setter Award. 

Somehow with that, as Hajime sees the bittersweet smile on his best friend’s face and the tears running down his cheeks as he pulls the team into a group hug, Hajime knows that the team still feels like they’d won _something._

“Iwa-chan,” He says but it comes out as an exhausted breath, “Come over and watch movies with me.”

Code for: _Iwa-chan, I’m actually really sad we lost but I’m also really happy I won Best Setter and it’s confusing so I just want to not think about anything at all._

Hajime doesn’t look at him as he keeps walking, says, “I thought you’d want some space after all that.”

“I do.” Oikawa agrees, “But that never includes you.”

He gulps. There’s that feeling in his chest again. Hajime wonders just how much room he’s capable of making.

They end up cuddling on Oikawa's living room couch, swaddled in the huge blanket that his grandparents had apparently sent them for Christmas two years ago, watching _Carrie._ (“What the hell. Why Carrie? You don’t wanna watch another alien movie?” “What do you mean? Isn’t Carrie an alien? I thought she had telesynthesis!” “Telekinesis.” “What’s telesynthesis then?” “The thing plants do.” “Isn’t that photosynthesis?” “I don’t know, do I look like a plant to you?”)

Oikawa has his head resting on Hajime’s chest, one arm thrown over his stomach. Hajime rests his hand on top of the boy’s hair, lightly combing through the strands the way he knows Oikawa likes. After the hell of a year he’s had, he guesses Oikawa deserved a _little_ affection.

“Iwa-chan, tell me,” He says, gazing up at him, and Hajime knows he’s about to say something stupid, “What would you do if I suddenly got my period and freaked out and people threw tampons at me? Would you fight for my honor?”

Hajime hums. “Will you pay me if I do?”

Oikawa gapes at him. “Your best friend is being _bullied.”_

“Perish.” 

They spend most of the movie in relative silence, only broken by the occasional side comment or request to open another bag of chips, until the prom scene comes up.

“Imagine wanting to go to prom so badly that you lock your mom in a closet and then you go, only to get pig’s blood poured all over you, making you proceed to kill your entire year.” Oikawa says, clicking his tongue. “Couldn’t be me.”

“If all proms were this eventful, maybe I’d wanna go.” Hajime laughs as Carrie starts committing mass murder on the screen.

“Oh?” Oikawa raises his eyebrows, “Are you too cool for prom, Iwa-chan? Don’t tell me it’s because you don’t think you should bother because you’d never be able to find a date.”

That earns him his head being pushed off of Hajime’s chest, making Oikawa whine and try to clamber his way back onto him. “Iwa-chan! I was just kidding! Play with my hair!”

“Worry about yourself, Shittykawa.” Hajime retorts, “If all your fangirls spent just one hour with you, they’d turn back running.”

Oikawa scoffs. “Excuse me, I am a _delight._ ” 

“Who said that?” 

“My grandmother, that old lady who sells handmade bags in the shop down the street, and my dad’s yoga instructor.”

“That’s weirdly specific. You know what,” Hajime says, raising a hand, “Forget I asked. I’m sure your date to prom will like you just fine if she was insane enough to say yes to you in the first place. Also, I did _not_ need to know that your dad’s doing yoga. When the hell did that happen?”

“Last month. I think he has a crush on the instructor.” Oikawa pouts grumpily. “Also, I don’t plan on going to some dumb prom. If I wanted to look good in a suit, dance, and then have sex in someone’s car, I can do that on my own.”

“Have sex in someone’s car on your own?” 

Oikawa slaps his thigh. “You know what I mean! Anyway!” He huffs, crossing his arms, “I don’t plan on going to a stupid prom. Especially not after _this_ movie.”

Hajime hadn’t expected that. Prom seemed to be something that would’ve been right up Oikawa’s alley. But then again, prom was all about bringing a date. And as much of the campus heartthrob who reveled in attention Oikawa’s always been, for some reason, he’s never accepted a confession. _He’s focusing on volleyball,_ is what he’d always say. Hajime knew it wasn’t just that, but had never asked any further. For some reason, he was content with that answer and moreso, content with Oikawa not dating anyone. 

He chooses not to linger on that thought and whatever it means.

“How about we spend our future prom together playing volleyball? In suits, for the occasion.” Hajime says half jokingly, but Oikawa’s face lights up at the suggestion. 

“Let’s make a pact then!” He says, holding up his pinky finger. “To spend prom together playing volleyball in our suits! And we can end the night drinking our first beers together and everything!”

It’s there again, that feeling in his chest, _making room._ He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but links his pinky finger with Oikawa’s anyway.

“Fine.” Hajime relents, turning back to the screen. “Now, let’s just finish this damn movie. Who knew you were so anti-prom...”

Oikawa shrugs, snuggling closer, and says, “Whatever. It’s not like prom would benefit me anyway.” 

Hajime scrunches up his face, looking down at the boy, but is only met with the top of his head, “What does _that_ mean?”

Oikawa only points to the screen and says, “The movie, Iwa-chan~” and thinks, _it means it’s not like I’d be allowed to slow dance with you anyway._

  
  


Oikawa cries a lot during their middle school graduation. Hajime’s not sure what it is. Saying goodbye to the fangirls who gave him constant attention and expensive food or saying goodbye to their volleyball team. He knows it’s serious because he even gives Kageyama a hug, much to the boy’s confusion. 

Hajime’s dad comes, of course, and they all have dinner together along with Oikawa and Yuto. The adults were a lot louder than they were, filling the restaurant table with laughter and childhood stories that both Hajime and Oikawa had heard a million times before. Hajime couldn’t describe how he was feeling. He was happy to graduate, surprised he was even able to because at one point, he was pretty sure he was going to get kicked out from the amount of times he’d gotten into trouble for messing around with Oikawa during class. But it felt empty somehow, like there was a big bottomless pit in his stomach. He felt scared of something but he didn’t know _what._

Based on Oikawa’s dazed expression as he picked at his food, he felt the same way.

The ride back home is quiet. When Hajime hugs his dad goodbye, he tells him he’ll see him again next week and he’ll get him that new video game he’d been talking about as a graduation gift but Hajime couldn’t even find it in himself to be that excited.

“Hajime,” His mom calls out, peeking her head into his bedroom door later into the night, “Are you alright? You’ve been acting strange for someone who just graduated.”

He lifts his head and offers her a reassuring smile. “I’m alright. It’s just… weird.”

Iwaizumi Misaki purses her lips and opens the door wider to let herself in. “What’s weird?” She asks, closing the door behind her and making her way to sit on the edge of Hajime’s bed.

“I don’t know,” Hajime shrugs, “Maybe I got a little affected by how much Oikawa cried a while ago even if I don’t really get why he did.”

“Well, honey, if you have to say goodbye to the people who offered you free food everyday for three years, you’d cry too.” 

Hajime shakes his head and laughs, his mother reaching out to brush his hair back, something that still served as a calming gesture even as he grew.

“And it’s always a little scary getting older, isn’t it?” His mom asks, voice gentle. 

Hajime wonders if that’s it. Maybe he’s scared of growing? Scared of starting fresh in another school? Scared of change?

“Scary…” Hajime mumbles, “I guess it is.”

Misaki lowers her hand to rest it on top of Hajime’s and squeezes. “So… what’s next for you?”

Hajime raises his eyebrows. “Next?”

“Where do you wanna go for high school?” She asks, “Do you still wanna keep playing volleyball? In my opinion, you’re good enough to consider going pro in the future.”

 _Ah._ That’s when it hits Hajime, what exactly he’s so terrified of. Because when he tries to find an answer to those questions, it all boils down to one thing: 

_Well, where’s Oikawa going?_

All their lives, they’d sort of just _had_ to follow each other around. Other than joining the volleyball team, none of the decisions had been their own. They didn’t choose to live in the same neighborhood, didn’t choose where to go to elementary school or middle school. They just orbited around each other and that’s how it’s always been. But now they were being given a choice. _What do you want to do? Where do you wanna go?_ Hajime’s answer has always been the same. _Wherever Oikawa’s going._

He sees now why he’s so scared. 

What exactly do you do when you realize Oikawa Tooru had never forced his way into taking up all the space in your life? It’s Hajime who’d allowed him to do it. Hell, the more he thought about it, Oikawa probably didn’t even know. That’s even scarier. 

It’s a little past midnight, after he’d spent about an hour and a half staring at the ceiling, when he hears something hit his window. He skips the _oh god, am I about to be murdered_ assumption and goes straight to, _ah it’s Oikawa._ He groans as he sits up and pushes his curtains back to prove himself right.

When Oikawa spots him, he waves and does some weird hand motion that Hajime’s strangely able to understand as, _‘I’m gonna go grab the ladder in the tool shed so we can sit on your roof. Is the key hidden in the same place?’_ Hajime gives him a thumbs up.

As Oikawa shuffles out of view, Hajime doesn’t hold back the soft smile that makes its way to his lips and thinks to himself that a lot of things might change, but him and Oikawa isn’t something he saw as one that ever could. 

A few minutes later, Hajime finds himself gripping onto the boy’s hands tightly as he pulls him up the roof. 

“Fuck,” He groans as Oikawa finally manages to lift his legs, before collapsing into a tired heap beside him, “What the hell, Trashykawa? When did you gain so much weight?”

“Okay, first of all, _rude._ Second of all, it’s my muscle weight, Iwa-chan. My road to sexiness is only just beginning and no pain, no gain.” 

“Jesus.” is all Hajime can say to that.

Oikawa decides to stay lying on his back, stretching his arms out, and closing his eyes. Hajime allows himself to stare for a moment, because it wasn’t all the time that Oikawa looked so peaceful. They bickered 80% of the time they spent together, so Hajime secretly treasured the few moments they could just find comfort in being quiet around each other. 

Hajime sighs heavily and mirrors Oikawa’s position, his hands coming behind the back of his head to serve as a pillow. Once he gets tired of staring up at the night sky, he closes his eyes too.

For what feels like forever, neither of them say anything. A part of Hajime felt some sort of weird satisfaction during times like these. Because Oikawa was loud and shameless in every possible way, half because that’s just who he was but half because it’s the facade he uses to mask the fact that in a way, it wasn’t who he was at all. 

Hajime wouldn’t call it being fake. He thinks it’s just called being scared. He thinks it’s just Oikawa’s own way of protecting himself from something Hajime is yet to figure out.

“Tooru,” He says gently, “You alright?”

Oikawa’s lips curl into a soft but genuine smile. A rare one, mostly reserved just for him. “I like when you call me that.”

“I’m _serious.”_ Hajime presses, turning his head to look at him properly, “You alright?”

The silence stretches on for a few seconds long, before Oikawa finally opens his eyes and says, “I’m planning on going to Aoba Johsai and joining the volleyball team there.” 

Hajime hums. “You meant what you said about showing Shiratorizawa a thing or two in high school, huh?”

His best friend breathes out a quiet laugh. “I always keep my word, Iwa-chan.”

“I know.” Hajime says simply, closing his eyes again, “Me too, by the way.”

Oikawa hums, questioningly.

“I’m planning to go to Aoba Johsai too. Join the volleyball team there.”

There’s a pause for a few seconds before Oikawa heaves out what sounded like a sigh of relief and then chuckles and says, “Copycat.”

“No,” Hajime scoffs, “They just have the best volleyball team around here, that’s all.”

“Stop being coy, Iwa-chan, we both know that if it’s volleyball you’re after, then it’d be Shiratorizawa.” Oikawa retorts playfully. “Just tell me you love me and can’t live without me.”

“Well, that’s a real subjective point of view.” Hajime argues, turning to look at his best friend, only to see that his eyes are watery. 

The words he was about to say get caught in his throat.

“Liar.” Oikawa whispers.

Hajime gulps. “Hey, _you’re_ the one about to cry right now. You were scared to be away from me, weren’t you? Loser.”

“No, I wasn’t.” 

“Liar.” Hajime shoots back.

Oikawa breathes out slowly, closing his eyes, his smile soft but not happy when he says, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Hajime wondered what the hell that meant and why he sounded so resigned. 

__

He isn’t sure when it happens. It’s not like he woke up one day and suddenly everything was different. But around the first semester of their senior year of high school, he realizes something terrible for the very first time.

Much to Hajime’s absolute fucking horror, Oikawa Tooru gets _hot._

He goes from being a campus heartthrob to being on the same level as a small scale social media influencer. His face is in sports magazines for being the best overall player in Miyagi and they write anecdotes about his favorite food (milk bread) and his motto (“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks”). 

What’s scarier is that people actually _care._

His fanclub of fifteen in middle school has nothing on his fanclub of two hundred in their school alone. Not counting the people who follow the _Oikawa Tooru Twitter Fanpage_. Oikawa was now standing at six feet and wasn’t done growing and it just was not _fair._ And sure, Hajime had also grown a good amount and sure, he was a little popular too, and has received his own amount of love confessions that he’d had to turn down. 

But, _jesus._ Oikawa was _really_ hot. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that new information? Fellas, is it gay to think your homie looks damn good in skinny jeans? 

No, really. Is it gay?

“Iwa-chan, there’s no need to be so jealous of my popularity! Didn’t that cute girl from Class B confess to you last week?” Oikawa points out, shoving the strawberry lollipop he’d just received into his mouth.

Hajime is pointedly _not_ staring.

“It’s not about being jealous, it’s about this being insane.” Hajime argues, “Also, I’ve received a total of three confessions in the past six months. You have a record of nine in the span of three days. We are not the same.”

Oikawa shrugs, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop and there’s a fucking spit string. It’s almost obscene. Hajime’s starting to wonder if he’s doing this on purpose? Fellas, is it gay to—

“Does it even _matter?”_ Oikawa asks, flippantly. “I am yet to accept a single love confession so technically, aren’t we the same?”

“Your bag is filled with home baked goods right now, Shittykawa. There’s a box of cookies in there with your face drawn with icing on every single one.”

“I said I am yet to accept a love confession, not that I am stupid enough to reject sweet delicacies. Think about the love that comes with drawing my face on six cookies.”

“No, I really don’t want to think about that.”

There was actually an ongoing ranking in the Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club for _Top 5 Most Confessed To._ It’s an official ranking. They have it posted in the club room and everything. Hajime was currently sitting in _Throne #4 (Decent Amount of Confessions, Go Get It Iwa-Chan!)_ and Oikawa obviously took _Throne #1 (Are You A Priest In A Confession Booth Or Something?)._

By the time they were in their second year, Hajime’s pretty sure almost every single girl (and some boys) had confessed their love or at least had a crush on Oikawa, at some point. By the time they got to their third, Oikawa Tooru’s captain title and Hajime’s vice captain one somehow, for some reason, earned them the title of _Seijoh’s Old Married Couple._

“It’s because you two are _always_ together and have never fucking said yes to anyone, that’s why.” Matsukawa Issei points out groggily, yawning as they make their way into the locker room for early morning practice. “I heard that the cute foreign exchange student confessed to Oikawa recently and he turned her down.”

Hanamaki Takahiro chokes on a bread roll. “Oh, you mean the one who kinda looks like Chloe Moretz? She’s cute, you said no?”

“Makki, Mattsun,” Oikawa says, slamming his locker door shut, turning to look at them with curious eyes, “You’re into white women?”

Hajime snorts. “You heard it here first, folks. Oikawa Tooru’s only into Japanese girls.”

The laugh that Oikawa lets out at that almost sounds ironic. 

“Well, you’re half right.” He mumbles, as if he were talking to himself rather than the rest of them.

“Half right?” Hajime makes a face. “What the hell is that supposed to m—“

“I mean,” Kindaichi suddenly interrupts from his position on the floor, “I don’t know why you’re all so surprised that they’re rejecting other people’s confessions. Aren’t they dating?”

There’s a moment of quiet stillness that takes over the Seijoh club room at those words. It is only broken by Kunimi stretching out a hand to smack Kindaichi in the back of his head. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” He hisses, “I told you not to say that in front of them.”

“Big oof.” Makki says under his breath. 

“You thought we were dating?” Hajime blinks, “You’re telling me all this time, since middle school, you thought I was _dating_ that thing?”

There’s a flash of what looked vaguely like hurt in Oikawa’s eyes before he seemingly reverts back to his usual dramatic self, indignant pout on his lips, “Excuse me, Iwa-chan! I’ll have you know, you would be _lucky_ to bag someone as beautiful as me with that permanently grumpy face of yours!”

“Gross.” Hajime ignores the fact that his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest as he hurriedly reaches for his gym bag and stomps his way to the door. “Besides, where the hell did that even come from? Neither of us are even gay.”

That’s the last thing he says as he opens the door and slams it closed. The rest of the team are left in confused silence.

Yahaba leans towards Kunimi’s ear. “Did he just say neither of them are even gay?” 

Kunimi nods gravely.

“Has he _seen_ gay people?” Yahaba asks, seriously.

Mattsun turns his attention to Oikawa. “Dude. What the hell was that about?”

“Well,” Oikawa clasps his hands together, forcing out a grin that comes out more like a grimace, “I think that went great. We’ve learned a lot this pleasant morning. Makki and Mattsun are into caucasians, Kindaichi thought we were dating for the past six years, and Iwa-chan’s straight! The more you know!”

The more he speaks, the less he’s able to hide the fact that he’s a little hysterical, and something finally clicks in all of their heads. 

“Oikawa,” Makki asks, treading carefully, “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

Oikawa pauses in the middle of closing his gym bag, his grip around the strap tightening. He looks up at them with a smile that’s soft, paired with eyes that looked desperate. 

“None of you can tell him, okay?” He whispers. “He’s… he _can’t_ know.”

“Oikawa-san,” Kindaichi starts, “With all due respect, I don’t think Iwaizumi-san would see you any differently if you told him you were gay. I mean, when Yahaba-san came out he barely even reacted and he’s never treated him any differently since then.”

“That’s different.” Oikawa shakes his head, “Me being gay is one thing. Him being the one I have feelings for is another. He can’t know. If he knows the first thing, he’ll realize the other thing too.” He presses, “Do you understand me? He _can’t_ know.”

Yahaba purses his lips. “Okay, I get it. But, guys… Is it just me or has it not looked like they’ve been together all this time? I mean, I’m sorry to bring this up, but you guys go home together, hold hands all the time, cuddle _a lot_ even in front of us, some of us are single by the way, plus you two reject everyone who confesses, and... _wait,_ I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you guys kiss.”

“Those were… _platonic!”_ Oikawa sputters, swinging his bag over his shoulder, flipping his hair, preparing for his dramatic exit. “You all wouldn’t understand the inner workings of Iwa-chan and I’s deep-rooted friendship.”

“Deep-rooted denial, more like.” Kunimi says under his breath. “Do you kiss all your homies?”

“They were mostly on the cheek! And the one time it was on the lips was an accident ‘cause he turned his head and we don’t speak of it!” Oikawa exclaims, swinging the door open, “And they’re called _friendship kisses!”_ He finishes, before slamming the door in their faces.

“Friendship kisses…” Mattsun drifts off, “Yeah, I think I do remember Hajime calling it something like that when Oikawa kissed his forehead goodbye last week.”

“Friendship kisses, my ass.” Yahaba scoffs to himself. 

“I mean… they could be? It’s a _thing.”_ Kindaichi defends. 

They all stare at him, unimpressed.

“What?” He turns to Kunimi for help, “It’s true! Don’t you give me friendship kisses sometimes?”

Kunimi’s expression turns horrified. “Are you fucking kidding me? You thought those were friendship kisses?”

“God,” Yahaba rubs his temples, “There’s just so much to unpack here. Maybe we should change our team slogan to _‘Command The Internalized Homophobia.’”_

__

_Making room._

That’s what Hajime had called the strange feeling in his chest for the past several fucking _years_ of his life. He’d never really let himself sit down and think about what exactly that meant. Because he wasn’t stupid. And he knew that if he did sit down and think about it, he’d reach an answer that he’d want to unlearn anyway. 

Why _did_ he make so much room for Oikawa? 

Deep down, he kind of knew the answer. He’s just pretended long enough not to know, in hopes that it would go away on its own.

It does not go away on its own. In fact, it gets worse. In fact, he’s pretty sure that one day, he’s just going to implode from it and then die. 

“Iwa-chaaaan,” Oikawa whines sleepily from his position in Hajime’s lap, reaching for his hand, “Why’d you stop petting me?” He demands, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

Iwa-chan died right there. Died.

“Are you a dog?” Hajime grumbles but proceeds to pet his hair anyway, earning a satisfied hum from the boy.

“Arf.” is all he responds with, closing his eyes. 

Hajime bites back both a fond smile and an insult. Which now that he thinks about it, seems to be a perfect summarization of his life with Oikawa. 

He finds himself once again, roped into spending the night at Oikawa’s place after a loss against Karasuno. He’d expected the guy to be a lot more devastated at the prospect of them not making it to Nationals. But while they were both upset, they’d gotten rid of the leftover steam with some last minute volleyball with the other seniors and cried themselves out of tears. At this point, all they were really feeling was bone deep exhaustion. 

They’d done their best. They always have and always will. Hajime guesses that’s what’s going to matter in the long run. 

Ever since that time in middle school, _six who are strong together are stronger,_ Oikawa had never gone back to the way he was before. And while he still had ridiculous ambition, an ego the size of a country, and occasionally had close to nonexistent self preservation when it came to volleyball, he never lost himself in it again. 

“Tooru?”

The boy smiles against his leg, looking up at Hajime with only one eye open. “Hm?”

“I’m proud of you.” He decides to say, voice low and hurried, before he can chicken out. “You know that, right?”

Somehow, Oikawa already knows what Hajime means by that without him having to explain. This wasn’t the same as, _‘I couldn’t be prouder to have you as my partner’_ or _‘You’re the best setter.’_ This was a little different. 

Being seven years old and throwing a tantrum at not being able to get whatever he wanted. Being nine years old and not talking to Hajime for five days when he beat him at two video games straight. Being thirteen years old and losing his first official game and falling into a spiral. Being fourteen years old and picking a fight with Ushiwaka just because they couldn’t win a single set against them. Being fifteen years old and nearly punching his junior in the face just because, what? He thought he’d grow to be better than him? 

There was only one person who was right next to him all of those times. Unfailingly. Unchangingly. 

_I’m proud of you. You know that, right?_

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hajime.” Oikawa says, voice as soft as a whisper, “It’s all because I have you, right?” 

_Hajime,_ he thinks to himself. Oikawa hadn’t tried calling him that since they were fucking kids. Did it feel like this back then?

 _Making room_ was starting to sound like a bullshit excuse. 

  
  


Three months away from graduation, Hajime gets stopped on the way to the school rooftop during lunch.

He recognizes the girl to be Haruka from Class A. He didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she was one of the best in track and field. 

“Hajime-san,” She calls his name, fighting against her shyness, “Can I have a minute?”

Hajime recognizes this moment all too well. It didn’t happen to him too often, but often enough for him to know what it was. As they make their way to a more secluded part of the school, he takes the time to examine her. He barely hears the words she’s saying as he focuses on the small butterfly clip in her wavy brown hair, the jut of her collarbones which he strangely found attractive, and the scent of her cologne. It smelled like soap. 

He liked that. Oikawa smelled like soap a lot, too.

Oikawa had nice hair. Brown and wavy too. His hair always looked good, even in the mornings, just permanently in this perfect state of soft and fluffy. He liked his collarbones too, but they were less pronounced than hers. It was his shoulders that stood out. They were wide. And he had toned arms and legs, the fruit of his hard labor. His skin was mostly smooth, save for his setter hands and battered knees. He also always smelled like soap. Sometimes, laundry detergent. 

He stares at Haruka’s lips and notices she’s wearing lip gloss. Oikawa never wore lip gloss but he did keep lip balm in his uniform pocket at all times. _My lips get dry so easily, Iwa-chan! It’s because of the damn cold! Fight it away for me!_ He sometimes wondered what it would feel like if he’d just leaned forward one day and—

Wait. No. _What?_

“— so Iwaizumi-san, I was wondering if you would please go out with me?” 

Hajime blinks, unable to shake himself out of the state of shock he’d put himself in as he answers, “Sure.”

He realizes what exactly he’d just done once her eyes turn into saucers, and a smile so blindingly bright and wide makes its way to her lips. “Really?”

And he’s about to take it back, he really is, but a part of his mind tells him to just _try._ She has nice wavy brown hair, a butterfly clip, pretty collarbones, soft looking lips, and she smells like soap. 

(Also, he just fantasized about kissing his best friend. He was absolutely losing it. He figured this would help.)

He forces out a smile. “Really.”

  
  


“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa reprimands the second he takes his spot next to him, sitting down cross-legged. “What took you so long? I bought you a popsicle! It’s melted now!”

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck and notices he’s sweating a little. “Got caught up with something.”

Mattsun raises his eyebrows. “Iwaizumi Hajime taking extra time to do school work? Never thought I’d see the fucking day.”

“It wasn’t that, you asshole,” Hajime retorts, throwing a chopstick at him, which he dodges. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You got confessed to, didn’t you?” Makki suggests, taking the chopstick that Hajime had thrown and using it to scratch his back. “I heard Haruka talking to her friends this morning.”

He sees Oikawa glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he otherwise doesn’t say anything, continuing to munch on his milk bread.

“Yeah.” Hajime says, leaning back against the wall, opening his mostly melted popsicle. 

“Ah, alas,” Mattsun sighs in faux despair, shaking his head, “Another one bites the dust.”

A five second long pause.

“I accepted.”

Mattsun pauses mid bite, Makki drops the chopstick down his uniform, Oikawa chokes on his water. 

“You… you _what?”_ Makki sputters, “You _accepted? Why?”_

Hajime makes a face. “Why the fuck else, you dimwit? Close your mouth. You look stupid.” He says grumpily, sticking the popsicle in his mouth.

It should be around this time that Oikawa poked fun at him. Where was the “ _Iwa-chan, I’m so proud of you! Who knew someone would fall in love with the likes of you?”_ or the “ _Oh no, who is this poor soul?! I have to warn her of your wrath!”_

He turns his head to look at his best friend and he’s met with a pair of wide eyes. 

And for some reason, _for some fucking reason_ , he looks like his entire world had just shattered right in front of him.

He sees it for only a moment. It couldn’t have been more than a second. But he does see it, right before it’s replaced with a smile and laugh that sounded so real that he almost believed it.

“Congratulations, Iwa-chan!” He exclaims, raising his drink, “Does this mean we’re getting divorced? It’s been a good run, though, honey. I’m going to miss you.”

Hajime blinks and shakes his head to regain his senses before chuckling, shoving Oikawa lightly. 

“Shut the hell up.” He groans, but reaches for his own drink anyway, knocking it with Oikawa’s water bottle, in an attempt at a cheers. 

“What are you two _doing?”_ Oikawa scolds, smacking both their friends on the head, “Makki! Mattsun! Stop being downers and cheers with us! I’m sure one day some poor unfortunate souls will be stupid enough to consider loving your dumb asses! Be supportive!”

He wonders though, as he sees the expressions on Makki’s and Mattsun’s faces, as he thinks about that crushing look in Oikawa’s eyes that had only lasted a second but felt like a lifetime, he _wonders._

Why does he feel like he’s just done something wrong?

__

“Come on, Tooru,” Oikawa says to himself in the mirror, slapping his cheeks. “Get it together.”

He takes a deep breath determinedly and flashes his reflection the most convincing smile he could muster. He nods once he’s content with his performance. “Nice.”

“You’re not fooling him, you know?” Yahaba points out from his position leaning against a cubicle door, making Oikawa jump. “You’re not fooling _any_ of us, actually.”

Oikawa glares. “ _Actually_ , I’m not trying to fool anyone, and even if I was, you wouldn’t know what it was about because I’m a terrific actor who could fool anyone I wanted to.”

Yahaba blinks, thoroughly unimpressed.

“And how long were you in there?” Oikawa asks, “Were you taking a shit? You were quiet.”

“No, I was jerking off. Kyoutani looked good today.” 

“You’re into Kyouken-chan? Fucking furry.” Oikawa turns back around, “... Oh wow, you were _quiet.”_

“Can you stop trying to change the subject?” Yahaba scolds, “Look, you might be able to fool everyone else, but you sure as hell can’t fool us. Not when we know what we know.” 

“Like I _said,”_ Oikawa says stubbornly, “I’m not trying to fool—“

“With all the love and respect in the world, I am asking you to please cut the crap, dearest senpai. Honestly.” Yahaba cuts him off, walking towards him so he has no choice but to look him in the eye, “You know your dad’s worried about you, right? Apparently, he’d asked Iwaizumi-san what was happening with you and he couldn’t answer so he asked the rest of us too, and I felt like shit having to be like, _sir, if he didn’t know, what makes you think the rest of us would?”_

The guilt feels like a punch to the gut. Oikawa sighs, bowing his head, his fingers curling against the edge of the sink. “When the hell did he even have the time to do all that?”

“He has all our numbers, you know that, right?” 

“That is _so_ weird.”

“This is about Haruka senpai, isn’t it?” Yahaba cuts to the chase. 

“Stop.” Oikawa’s jaw clenches. “This isn’t your business.”

It’s the most serious Yahaba had ever seen him. Most of the time that the team had ever seen Oikawa annoyed, angry or upset, had always been masked with some form of his dramatics, playfulness or sarcasm. This time, Yahaba could tell he was sincerely letting him know that he wasn’t messing around. 

“The year isn’t over. I’m not the captain yet. It’s still you. Aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example for me?”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Oikawa huffs out a tired breath, “I’ll work on it.”

_“Senpai.”_

“Good talk, Yahaba-chan.” He says pointedly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, before walking out the bathroom door without another glance. “Get back in the gym. Don’t you guys have half an hour left? And wash your _hands_ , you heathen.” 

_It’s been three weeks since the girlfriend reveal,_ Oikawa thinks to himself, _and everyday he’s felt worse and worse._ He asked Google about how to get over your crush on your best friend and the very first tip he read was that he had to cut off all contact for a while and focus on other things that made him happy.

Now, how was that supposed to work out when they lived in the same neighbourhood, took the same route to school everyday, shared a classroom, _and_ a club? Focus on other things that made him happy? Volleyball made him happy. They shared that too.

“Shittykawa,” Hajime says, without looking up from his phone, “Haruka’s going to my place so she’s coming with us.”

Fuck.

Oikawa remembers that one time in their freshman year when they’d run out of fun things to do so they’d decided to start a cold soba noodles eating contest. They didn’t even decide on a prize for the winner. Not even a punishment for the loser. There was absolutely no reason for it and Oikawa had won that battle with competitive spirit alone because God knows his stomach wasn’t as strong as him. After swallowing the final bite, he genuinely threw up in his mouth a little and then with all the stubbornness and pride he had in his body, _swallowed it back down,_ and said “Iwa-chan, I beat you!”

(He spent the entire weekend in the bathroom. He doesn’t talk about that part.)

This moment feels a lot like that time. 

He’s almost shocked at the sheer amount of _emotion_ threatening to come up to the surface. Anger? Hurt? Jealousy? Jesus, he doesn’t even know anymore. It’s like ten years worth of gay pining about to spill over. 

And just like that time in freshman year with those cold soba noodles, with all the stubbornness, pride, and _fear_ in his body, he swallows it back down. 

He pokes his best friend in the arm and waits for him to look at him before he winks. “You know, if you want some private time with her… You just have to let me know. I, Oikawa Tooru, refuse to be Iwa-chan’s cockblock!”

Hajime makes a face at him.

“Fly, Iwa-chan! Fly like a bird!” Oikawa exclaims, flapping his arms for added effect, “I’ll be fine! I’ll just hang out with Makki and Mattsun for a while. I’m sure they’ll appreciate my company.”

“I’m sure they will not but I’ll take your word for it.” Hajime retorts, but the look on his face says he’s not convinced. “Tooru…”

 _Oh god,_ Oikawa thinks. He knows it’s serious when he pulls out the first name card.

“Are you alright?” He asks and he looks so worried that Oikawa almost tells him the truth. _No, I’m not. Love me back, you asshole._

But instead, he chuckles, throwing his bag over his shoulder before turning around. “Have fun, Iwa-chan! Use protection!” He exclaims loudly as he waves.

He waits for their friends to laugh but no one does. Figures.

“Is he really okay?” He hears Hajime ask again, probably to Makki, and Oikawa almost laughs.

 _He’s fine,_ he thinks. He’s just wondering how it’s possible for someone who’s always standing so close to him to feel so damn far away.

__

  
  


“What are you making?” Oikawa asks, leaning against the counter. “Is it gonna be edible?”

“Your faith in my cooking astounds me, as always.” Yuto retorts, “It’s just fried rice. I’m almost done though, you hungry?”

“A little bit.” Oikawa mumbles, groggily making his way to his father, wrapping his arms around his torso from behind him. _“Daaaaaaaad.”_

He chuckles. “I’ve been waiting for you to crack. It took you long enough.”

Oikawa raises his head and pouts at him. “That’s not nice.”

Yuto turns off the stove and turns around so they can talk face to face. “Are you finally gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Oikawa only groans, bending down so that he can properly wrap his arms around his father, burying his face in his shoulder. “Dad, is it just me or are you shrinking?”

“Tooru, I don’t know how to tell you this, but when you tried to visit me at the preschool last week, you had to bend down to fit through the door.”

“You work at a _preschool.”_ He argues, “That’s not saying much.”

Yuto sighs, wrapping his own arms around his son, patting him on the back. “This is about Hajime, isn’t it?”

“S’always about Hajime.” Oikawa grumbles into his dad’s shoulder. 

“Don’t I know it?” Yuto teases good naturedly as he pulls away to look him in the eye, “You’ve been carrying this for a long time now, Tooru. Ten years.”

“Damn,” Oikawa smirks weakly, “When you say it out loud like that, it sounds terrible.”

“And I’m glad that at least most of your team knows, but is that enough?” Yuto asks, squeezing his arms, “You were proud of who you were before you even knew how to call it, you know?”

Oikawa groans. “This isn’t about me being ashamed that I’m gay, you know I’m not. It’s _not_ that.” 

“Hajime won’t see you any different.” His dad presses.

“Hajime is my straight best friend who now has a girlfriend.” Oikawa retorts, “And he would absolutely freak out if he found out that his childhood best friend has been in love with him all this time.”

Yuto’s expression changes. “Shit.”

There’s something freeing about being at the age where he and his dad can swear around each other. 

“Shit is right.” Oikawa says miserably, dropping his head back down onto his dad’s shoulder. “So, can you not argue with me and tell me what to do? ‘Cause that’s all everyone’s been doing and I never asked for any of that. I just want a hug.”

Yuto’s heart squeezes, reaching up a hand to pat his head. “You’re just a six foot tall baby, aren’t you?” He says, squeezing his son a little tighter, “I’m sorry, Tooru. I didn’t know.”

“Mmm.” 

“I still think you should tell him, though.” Yuto says, stroking Oikawa’s hair lightly.

Oikawa huffs. “What good is that gonna do?”

“It’s for the sake of transparency. He’s still your best friend.” Yuto says, “And even if it might not exactly be in that way… Hajime loves you.”

Oikawa stays in his dad’s arms for a long time, long enough for them to worry about whether the fried rice is getting cold. 

There was only one person in the world who came before Iwaizumi Hajime in Oikawa Tooru’s life and that was Oikawa Yuto.

“I _know_ he loves me.” Oikawa says after a long silence, “That’s why this sucks… I just want him to be happy.”

“I know.” Yuto comforts, patting his back. “I know.”

“Dad,” He croaks, “Does it make me a bad person to already have so much of someone... and still want more?”

Yuto takes a moment to think about it before answering.

“It’s tough. You feel terrible for wanting more from someone who already gives you so much, but you’re suffering in silence, watching him be with someone else, all because you want him to be happy.”

Oikawa sniffs. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re not a bad person. You’re the farthest thing from it. That’s just how love is.” Yuto assures, swaying their bodies from side to side, “It is both selfish and selfless.”

For some reason, even if he doesn’t fully understand what the hell that was supposed to mean, he cries even more. 

“It sucks.” Oikawa says.

“Yeah,” Yuto laughs softly, “And that too.” 

After a few more seconds wrapped in their embrace, Oikawa finally pulls away, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Love you.”

“I love you too, kid.” Yuto says, squeezing his arm one last time. “Fried rice?”

“And ice cream after.” He says.

“And ice cream after.” Yuto nods. 

Oikawa decides that once he’s done with the fried rice and the ice cream, he’ll lock himself in his room, cry while listening to _Broken Hearted Girl_ by Beyonce, and then he’d get his shit together, go out there, and do what he’s always done best. 

Be Iwaizumi Hajime’s best friend. 

__

In hindsight, Hajime should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. 

Haruka was pretty, objectively. She was funny, easy to talk to, and somehow managed to make Hajime feel comfortable with her pretty early on into their relationship and that wasn’t the easiest thing to do. The first time they kissed, he didn’t feel any butterflies, honestly he didn’t feel much of anything at all, but it would be a lie to say that he hated it. Her lips often tasted like watermelon and that was always nice.

Hajime could even talk to her about volleyball and that was something. They didn’t have too much in common but Hajime wonders if that’s only because he usually spent all his time with Oikawa who he had _too much_ in common with, despite all the other ways they were different. And that’s probably where the issue lied. 

The fact that things were, all things considered, going pretty well. And yet.

He thought she was pretty, but never needed to force himself to stop staring. He liked kissing her to some extent, but never found himself wanting more. He enjoyed her company, but still yearned for somebody else’s. 

And that’s probably where the issue lied. 

He liked her, cared about her even, but just not enough to… _make room._

Too much of it already belonged to someone else.

He was still trying to make sense of what that meant for them. What that meant for _him._ Did that mean he was gay? He’d always wondered, but he’d never really considered. Did that mean he had to confess his feelings to Oikawa? And then what? It’s either he’d get rejected or they’d be _boyfriends_ and neither of those options sounded appealing. And besides, how _did_ Oikawa feel about him? 

“Hajime, you okay?” Haruka asks, waving her hand in front of him, “You just spaced out for a whole minute there.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Hajime blinks, “Were you saying something?”

Haruka tilts her head, as if trying to solve him like a puzzle. “You’re still worried about Oikawa, aren’t you?”

Hajime gulps. _Was he that easy to read?_

She sighs loudly, melting into the couch. “Can’t say I’m all that surprised. Who am I against the infamous ten year long bromance?”

Hajime grimaces. “I’m sorry, it’s not… He’s just been really distant and weird these days and it’s not like him, you know? I’m usually the exception when he gets like this. I’m just worried about him.” 

Haruka raises an eyebrow and smirks at him. And what she says next, he knows is supposed to be some stupid joke, is supposed to be her poking fun at them the way everyone else always does, but something inside of him cracks when she says, “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were dating him instead of me.” 

He’s not sure what it is about that statement that gets him to crack. Maybe he feels guilty and wants to make it up to her, make sure she didn’t feel like she was just a placeholder for someone else. (Even though she was.) Or maybe it was the need to prove something to himself, to her, to everyone. Or maybe it was the overwhelmingly loud voice in his head telling him, _this isn’t working, you know it’s not working, no matter how long this keeps going, it’s not going to work and you know it._

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he laughs at her joke, leans forward, and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “I don’t do _this_ with Oikawa, do I?” 

Haruka smiles against him. “Hmmm, I guess not.”

(Except they did. Once. It was an accident and they’d never spoken of it again. Hajime doesn’t remember how a supposed kiss to the cheek went that wrong, but he remembers wanting more. That’s all he remembers about it. Wanting _more_.)

He’s not sure what it is that makes him crack. But he does come to a decision. 

  
  


“Shittykawa.” Hajime says, walking into Oikawa’s bedroom unannounced. “I need your help.”

“I would’ve been jerking off in here if you’d come in a few minutes later.” He says casually, closing his laptop, “I literally have ‘pornh’ typed into the search bar, wanna see?”

Wow. He’s trying to kill him. He’s _actually_ trying to kill him. Hajime steadies himself. 

“You don’t lock your fucking door?”

“Dad knows better than to just come in here after the first time.” He shrugs. “Hah, _that_ was an experience.”

“Sometimes, when I pray at night, I ask Jesus to give Uncle Yuto strength.” Hajime says and he means it. “Anyway, I came here to ask for a favor.”

“Wow, you never ask me for favors.” Oikawa says sitting up in his bed, “The only favor you’ve ever asked from me is to please shut the fuck up. It’s not that, is it?”

Hajime takes a deep breath, ignoring the way Oikawa’s shorts are riding up his goddamn thighs. “It’s about prom. It’s in a month.”

Oikawa smirks, hugging his legs and resting his chin on top of his knees. “Oh yeah? What about prom?”

“Can you help me plan a promposal?” 

His eyes widen just the slightest bit and there’s a beat of silence, before he laughs weakly. 

Oikawa smiles at him but it’s his fake one, as he pats the spot next to him and says, “C’mere. You don’t have a romantic bone in your body so _I’m_ gonna have to do all the work for you, aren’t I?”

Hajime doesn’t know what exactly he’s feeling right now. But he’s not sure if it’s good. “Thanks.”

Oikawa lets out a long, heavy breath that sounds deep-rooted as he falls back onto his bed, resting his arm over his eyes. 

They’re both silent for a moment, broken by Oikawa chuckling softly. 

“Seriously, Iwa-chan,” He sighs, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Hajime taps his fingers against Oikawa’s wrist. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Oikawa shakes his head, decidedly. He groans as he sits up again, “Just know that since I’m helping you with this, I’m using it to call in a future favor.”

Hajime had expected that much.

“So, how do you feel about roses and a sparkly banner? Want me to sing a song for her in the background while you ask? I learned how to play Love Story by Taylor Swift on the guitar.”

“Please don’t do it.” Hajime begs.

“I will do it.” Oikawa nods. “You can’t stop me.”

“ _Please_ don’t.”

“I will.” He insists, reaching for his guitar.

“Do it and I throw this.” Hajime makes a grab for Oikawa’s laptop. “Don’t try me.”

“Do it then! It’s been breathing heavy these days anyway!”

Oikawa’s laptop accidentally swings open as he raises it above his head and Hajime’s half terrified to find some weird porn on the screen but instead finds, 

“Oikawa. Why were you watching the music video for Broken Hearted Girl by Beyonce?”

“Why aren’t _you?”_ He retorts, positioning his guitar on his thigh. “Listen up, Iwa-chan. Is Haruka ready to have her heart _stolen?”_

_“Oikawa.”_ Hajime warns as the boy takes a deep breath and starts strumming.

_“We were both young when I first saw you…”_

Despite himself, Hajime ends up laughing so hard that he starts crying. And he watches Oikawa, strumming his guitar as he sings (terribly) at the top of his lungs, and he realizes that he can’t stop staring. He can’t keep his eyes off the smile on his best friend’s lips, he can’t stop wishing that they could just stay in this moment forever, and he just keeps thinking, _I want more._ Holy fuck, _I want more._ And he realizes he likes Haruka, cares about her even, but he’s in love with Oikawa.

Wait. He’s what?

Oh _fuck_. 

__

Growing up, Oikawa had never believed that heaven and hell were real. His teachers would say that if you’re good, you enter the gates of heaven where angels welcome you and you get to have a meet and greet with Jesus, but if you’re bad, you go to hell which they describe as a land made of fire and lava? Sounds fake. 

Oikawa always had this belief that if Hell were real, for him, it’d probably be a movie theater where he’d be forced to rewatch all the games he’d lost and then proceed to see people like Ushiwaka and Kageyama move on to become part of the National team or something while he rotted in his grave. 

He’s changed his mind.

Hell was standing in the school hallway, a bouquet of roses in his arms, while Makki and Mattsun hold onto the big sparkly banner that says, _‘Will you go to prom with me?’_ as he watches his childhood best friend, love of his fucking life, take Haruka’s hand in his and ask, “Will you?”

Oikawa sees Haruka’s eyes turn glassy and he feels for her honestly, because _wow,_ he was one _‘are you okay?’_ away from bursting into tears. He takes a deep breath and it takes every ounce of his strength for him to come forward, get on one knee, and present her with her bouquet.

“Dearest Haruka-chan,” He says and he makes sure to make it sound as melodramatic as he possibly can, “You must know that I was technically the one who came up with most of this, but because Hajime has taken a liking to you, I guess I can allow him to be the one to bring you to prom even if I know you secretly think I’m sexier.” 

“I am so sorry for him.” He hears Hajime say.

Haruka genuinely laughs and it’s so bright and warm that Oikawa thinks, _oh, she really is cute, that sucks,_ as she reaches out to take the flowers from his arms. “Thank you, Oikawa-san. Iwa-chan may be first place, but you’re definitely a close second _.”_

Iwa-chan, huh. _Wow_ , this fucking sucks.

“Is that a yes?” Hajime asks.

“Of course, it is.” She smiles, throwing her arms around him. 

Hajime seems to freeze for a long time, before he manages to slowly wrap his arms around her in return, and it would make him laugh if he didn’t feel so fucking miserable. Oikawa hears people cheering all around him but everything sounds muffled in his ears. 

He realizes heartbreak feels a lot like drowning.

 _We had a pact,_ he thinks to himself. _We were supposed to spend prom together. Did he forget or did it just stop mattering?_

He feels two hands touch his shoulders and squeeze. He knows it’s Makki and Mattsun without looking.

They both help him up and he vaguely hears Makki playfully say something like, “We’ll give you love birds some time together.”

He doesn’t know how he ends up outside but next thing he knows, he’s seated on a bench with a bottle of water in his hands. 

“Oh, you’re back.” Mattsun says, patting his knee, “Shit, you were kind of… not there for a little while.”

“Oh.” Oikawa says, still feeling like he’s not actually present.

“You good?” Makki asks and he looks so genuinely worried that it almost brings tears to his eyes. “Want to nap this off in the nurse’s office? We can vouch for you.”

He nods emptily. “I think I’m gonna… head home early, maybe.”

“We’ll tell them you got the flu or something.” Mattsun assures, “Should we call you a cab? Are you okay to take the train?”

“You guys are being dramatic.” Oikawa chuckles. “I’m not actually sick. I’ll be fine… Thanks.”

“Don’t call us dramatic, I don’t wanna hear that from you, of all people.” Makki huffs out a laugh before pausing and pursing his lips. “M’sorry, though. I wish we could do more.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “You guys have done more than enough.” He says, standing up. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

By the time he’s sitting in the train home, he realizes he’s still drowning. He wonders how long he’s been under the water for. It feels like it’s been about ten years. 

Oikawa decides that Hell is _definitely_ real.

When he swings their front door open, he’s expecting to hear soft sounds coming from the TV or at least the bluetooth speakers playing some early 2000s pop music while his dad graded papers. 

Instead, he’s met with quiet.

“It’s a Friday, though…” He mumbles, raising his wrist to check his watch. 

He toes off his shoes. “Dad?” He calls out, “I had a bad day! Did you know I had to help Iwa-chan prompose to his girlfriend today? Yeah! I held the bouquet of flowers and got on my knees and everything! Which is why I skipped the rest of the day so you _can’t_ get mad at me! I came home in search of my father’s loving shoulder to cry on!”

He’s still only met with silence.

“Daaaaad,” Oikawa exclaims loudly as he opens the door to his father’s bedroom, even knowing he isn’t home, “Where are _yoouuuuuuu?”_ It starts off as a whine and breaks off into a cry.

He collapses face first into the bed and at least finds comfort in the fact that it smells like his dad. He lazily rolls over and stares at the ceiling, suddenly realizing he was stuck with his own thoughts in this silence. 

“Damn. I should’ve just gone to the gym instead and trained with the kids or something.”

He groans, sitting up, mouth forming a dramatic pout as some form of reflex even if no one’s there to see him, when his gaze lands on an envelope on his dad’s dresser, too big to be for the bills and too thin to be school papers. His eyebrows furrow.

He reaches for it out of curiosity. He flips it open and pulls out a single piece of paper. 

He sees the words written on top and he stops breathing. The next thing he sees is his dad’s name and the fact that it was dated to be from weeks ago.

“Tooru?” He hears his dad from the door, voice frantic, “What are you doing here?”

It’s this day that Oikawa Tooru first learns of the Murphy’s Law, firsthand.

_(Murphy’s Law, n. Everything bad that can happen, will happen.)_

He experiences it only twice in his life. This was the first. It was the worst. 

“Dad,” He asks, fingers squeezing around the edges of the paper, slowly looking up to meet his father’s gaze, “Tell me. What the _fuck_ is this?”

__

“You just promposed to your girlfriend and now you’re out with the bros instead of making out in her room?” Makki snorts, taking in another mouthful of ramen. “The hell kinda boyfriend are you?”

“Mmm.”

“Hajime… you just pulled off the cutest public promposal so far. Why are you brooding?” Mattsun asks.

“Mmm.”

“Hajime.” 

“Mmm.”

“I heard you like to wax your ass.”

“Mmm.”

“Dude, have Mattsun and I ever told you that we’re dating? Yeah, for a month now.”

“Mmm.”

“Hajime, are you a furry?”

“Mmm.”

“See?” Makki points, “Called it.”

“HAJIME.”

“Oh,” He blinks himself out of his thoughts, “Shit. Sorry. What?”

“Dude,” Mattsun says, concerned, “Seriously. What is _up_ with you? Are you worrying about Oikawa? ‘Cause we told you, he’s just feeling sick so he took off early.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s just,” Hajime makes a face, scratching his head frustratedly, “He’s been so fucking _weird._ And I don’t know if I’m just overthinking things but I feel like I’ve done something wrong or… maybe he’s figured something out and he doesn’t wanna be around me anymore or… I don’t fucking know. Maybe I’m just losing it.”

“So, let’s unpack that.” Mattsun says, leaning over the restaurant table, “What exactly do you think you’ve done wrong and what exactly do you think he figured out?”

Hajime bites his lip. “Have you… And I know this seems like it’s coming from outta the blue or whatever ‘cause I’m with Haruka and everything but, have you ever questioned your sexuality?”

The sheer volume of their synchronized spit take causes a bit of a disturbance at the ramen place and Hajime has to ask for extra napkins, but all things considered, it wasn’t a very far off reaction from what he’d been expecting.

“You…” Makki starts, blinking rapidly, stuttering at every word when he says, “So, you… just a minute, so you’re saying… so what I’m hearing right now is that you’re… you’re _questioning?”_

Hajime takes a deep breath. “Actually, no. I think… I know the answer.”

“Oh jesus. Oh fuck. What is the answer?” Mattsun asks, fishing for his phone, “Oh dear god, where the _fuck_ is Oikawa when it matters most? Sorry. I’m listening. What is the answer.”

“What the fuck, dude, are you taking a video? I’m trying to tell you something serious here.” Hajime growls, trying to smack the phone away. “It’s not funny.”

“We’re _not_ making fun of you.” Makki presses, “It’s for Oi— just, _wait,_ tell us… is it about Oikawa?”

Hajime squirms in his seat. “It’s not that I don’t think Haruka’s great, because she is.” He says, “Let’s just get that straight, alright? She’s great and I like her. But, there’s just no… room for her.”

They stare at him.

“Where, like, in your schedule?” Makki asks, “‘That sounds more like a time management issue than an LGBT one.” 

“No, you don’t _get_ it. It’s like, she’s great but I keep thinking about how it is with someone else but I _can’t_ feel that way because it’s gonna ruin fucking _everything_ and...” Hajime makes a vague hand gesture and readies himself to go on a spiel about making room, about Oikawa, about love, even when he’s not even very sure yet what all of that was supposed to mean, when his phone starts ringing.

“God fucking damn it.” Makki swears, “Who is it? Tell them you’re in the middle of an awakening.”

“Oh. It’s him.” Hajime says, seeing the name on top of his screen. He presses the _Accept_ button, “Oi, Shittykawa.”

All he hears on the other end is loud, labored breathing.

Somehow, Hajime already knows from that alone that there was something really fucking wrong.

“Tooru?” 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says his name like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing, “I can’t stand up.”

Hajime’s stomach drops. “Where are you?”

He’s answered with a sob, and then another one, then a noise that sounded like him gasping for air, “Iwa-chan, I fell.” His voice sounds pinched, “I hurt my knee.”

_Fuck._

“I hurt my knee.” He says again, voice breaking pitifully. 

He’d never heard him sound like that before. Oikawa Tooru had always been a dramatic over the top person, cried over everything, whined about everything, had a habit of trying to turn every moment of his life into a scene from a telenovela. 

This wasn’t that. 

Hajime stands abruptly, reaching for his bag and jacket with one hand and both his friends seem to pick up immediately on the fact that there was something wrong, by the way they were following his every move. 

“Where _are_ you?” He repeats, “Are you in pain?”

There’s a pause before he speaks, voice so small and terrified that it scares him too, “I’m at the gym.” He says, taking another deep breath, “Iwa-chan… I think I broke something.” 

It’s the last thing he’s able to say before his cries turn hysterical. Hajime realizes what’s happening. This is real. Oikawa’s having a meltdown.

Hajime hurriedly mouths _‘the gym’_ to both Makki and Mattsun and they nod, the three of them bursting into a full on sprint. 

“I’m coming, okay? I’m gonna be right there.”

“Oh god, I can’t move.” Oikawa sobs, “I can’t fucking _move_. I’m ruined. Oh _god,_ I’m ruined.”

“Tooru, I’m gonna be right there. You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be right there. You’re not ruined.”

“I’m gonna lose everything.” _Why is he saying that?_ “I just wanted to play… Iwa-chan, I just wanted to play volleyball.” _Why did he sound like that?_ “I’m so tired. Please. I don’t wanna be awake anymore.” _Stop saying things like that._ “And I’m gonna lose you too… Oh _god,_ I’m gonna lose you too.” 

When they find him, he’s lying on the gym floor, pale, shaking, and covered in sweat from head to toe. He’s barely responsive and they’re not sure if it’s from the pain in his knee or the effects of his emotional meltdown. The three of them keep asking him questions as they wait for the ambulance to arrive but he refuses to speak. 

“You’re alright, Tooru. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” 

Oikawa keeps his eyes closed and all he does is cling onto Hajime’s hand, like it’s the only thing he can do, like it’d truly kill him if he let go.

And as Hajime looks at his best friend of ten years, crying and trembling on the floor in a way he’s never seen before, he’s honestly scared that it just might. 

They end up having to call his dad, who’d apparently been worried sick. At the hospital, Oikawa refuses to let go of his hand so Hajime ends up being right there with him and Yuto when the doctor says the words _‘Patellar Tendonitis’_ and takes too long explaining something that Hajime’s sure Oikawa wasn’t listening to anymore. Hajime’s pretty sure he heard the words _‘he can’t play volleyball for a while—‘_ and shut everything else out.

When they get to the Oikawa residence, both Makki and Mattsun are already sitting on the doorstep, getting to their feet the second they see the car pull over.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Makki asks Hajime as he helps get him out of the back seat, “He’s okay, right?”

Oikawa sniffs. “Stop talking like I’m not here.”

“There you are.” Mattsun exhales, relieved to finally hear his voice, “Thought we lost you.”

Oikawa manages to give them a small smile at that. “Hurry and get me to my goddamn room. I’m fucking freezing.”

Yuto hurriedly opens the front door, ushering them inside as Makki and Hajime help Oikawa hobble up the front steps and Mattsun carries his backpack and gym bag.

When they finally drop Oikawa onto his bed, everyone is relieved. 

“You need anything?” Mattsun asks, “Have you eaten?”

“You kinda stink too. Maybe we should help you shower.” Makki adds.

“Tooru,” Yuto says and Hajime wonders why all this time, he’s really yet to say anything to his son, “If you want to talk—”

“Guys.” Oikawa says from his position in bed, closing his eyes, cutting all of them off. “Sorry. But can you leave?”

They fall silent.

“Thanks for your help. And I’m sorry for worrying everyone. Really.” He continues, voice hoarse from all his crying, “But I just really wanna be alone right now.”

They all turn to each other with loaded stares, torn between respecting Oikawa’s wishes and not wanting to leave him when he’s obviously at a low point.

Oikawa exhales shakily, turning to face the wall. _“Please.”_

Hajime knows it’s genuinely what he needs so he nods to the rest of them and says, “Go. I’ll follow.”

Yuto looks like he’d aged about ten years from the night alone, as he opens the door wider to lead Makki and Mattsun out, taking one last pained glance at the lump on the bed, before taking a step out of the room, bringing the door with him.

He gives Hajime a look and he knows it means, _try to talk to him,_ and Hajime can only nod as the door clicks shut.

If Oikawa notices that Hajime hasn't left, he doesn’t show it. 

“Hey,” Hajime says, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him. “You really don’t wanna shower first? I’ll help you.”

Oikawa takes a few seconds, stubbornly still facing the wall, before he answers with a voice so soft that Hajime almost doesn’t hear him. “Can you help me change?”

Hajime tries not to audibly sigh in relief. “Okay.”

Oikawa needed space. But space never included him.

When he gets back to Oikawa after getting him some fresh clothes, the boy is already sitting up, ridding himself of his shirt. He holds a hand out wordlessly and Hajime tosses him his pajama top. His favorite one with the cartoon aliens that always made him happy.

That doesn’t go unnoticed. Hajime sees the hint of a smile on his lips.

The shirt is easy. It’s the pants that prove to be an ordeal. Oikawa grits his teeth through the entire process while Hajime tries to make it easier by making calming noises and caressing his skin, but by the time his pants are off, they’re both tired. 

Hajime puts the pajama bottoms down. “You should just stay in your boxers.”

“You think?”

When Oikawa finally makes himself comfortable, turning onto one side and curling into himself, Hajime unfolds his blanket and tucks Oikawa in up to his chin. 

And there’s something so achingly tender and vulnerable and _theirs_ about everything that’s happened tonight and _god_ , Hajime didn’t wanna leave him.

“Get some rest, Trashykawa.” He says, leaning down to gently run his hand through his hair, before pulling away. “Call me tomorrow, alright?”

He starts to bend down to gather Oikawa’s soiled clothes when he feels a hand close around his wrist. 

He freezes midstep, turning around. “Oikawa?”

“I’m calling in my favor.” He says, without looking at him.

Hajime blinks, straightening up. “Yeah?”

The grip around his wrist tightens but he doesn’t answer. His hand is so cold.

“Oika—“

“Will you hold me?” 

Hajime freezes, his entire body going stiff.

“Just until I fall asleep,” Oikawa begs, voice barely a whisper, “— just this once. Can you just hold me?”

In that moment, Hajime doesn’t think. He doesn’t think about the scary feeling in his chest, he doesn’t think about Haruka, he doesn’t think about _making room,_ he doesn’t think about all the things he still doesn’t know.

All he has to know is that the person he loves most in the goddamn world was asking to be held. And he doesn’t have to think twice.

He pulls the blanket down, sliding into the covers slowly, careful not to rustle Oikawa’s comfortable position he’d tried so hard to get into. 

“C’mere.” He says, pulling Oikawa closer, slipping an arm under his head as the boy snuggles into his chest. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything, only wraps an arm around his waist, holding onto his shirt tightly. 

All Hajime can do is hold him back and run his fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and the noise Oikawa lets out at that sounds like a whimper. “I’ll let you rest now. But you’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong tomorrow, okay?”

Oikawa only burrows into his chest, inhaling, then exhaling a shuddery breath. “Okay.”

When Hajime feels tears soaking the front of his shirt, he doesn’t say anything. Oikawa cries himself to sleep and Hajime holds him tightly through it.

And Hajime realizes two things:

The first thing, he realizes with his hand in Oikawa’s hair, is that he’s going to have to break up with Haruka soon. He doesn’t know how or when. He doesn’t know what his next move is gonna be. He doesn’t know what to do with this feeling. But he knows that it’s not going away and that wouldn’t be fair to her.

The second, he realizes as he stares at Oikawa’s sleeping face, is that the entire night, from the hospital, to the car, and then home… It was strange, now that he thought about it. 

Oikawa hadn’t looked or spoken to his dad, even once. 

Hajime goes back home around one in the morning. His mom had been waiting for him in the living room after hearing what happened from Yuto apparently, worried sick as if Oikawa was one of her own. Hajime guesses he kind of is.

“Are you okay, Hajime?” She asks, examining him from head to toe, squeezing his hands, “How about Tooru?”

“I’m okay.” He says, but feels empty as he does. “He’s okay.”

Haruka had left him 6 texts and two missed calls. He doesn’t even know what he has to say to her. He lays his phone on his table face down and decides he’ll apologize when he wakes up.

He doesn’t get any sleep.

__

  
  


**Shittykawa**

**sent 9:40 am**

iwa-chaaaaan~ if ur coming over i demand milk bread（☆ω☆*）

**Iwa-chan!**

**Sent 9:52 am**

Got it.

  
  


It’s been a day since _that_ night. Hajime had planned to see Oikawa as soon as he woke up the next morning, but Yuto had given him a call, saying he wasn’t ready to see anyone yet and just wanted to sleep in. Hajime had sent him a text, telling him to just call if he needed anything. It went unanswered.

Hajime never thought he’d ever feel aching relief over seeing a dumb kaomoji but here he is.

When Yuto opens the front door, Hajime’s jaw nearly drops. 

“Uncle, I’m sorry to hit you with this so early in the morning,” Hajime says, slowly making his way into their home, “But you look like you’ve just returned from a war.”

“That’s one way to call it.” Yuto smiles meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can head on upstairs. Tooru’s been excited all morning.”

Hajime chuckles. “To see me?”

“To see the milk bread.” Yuto points to the plastic bag in Hajime’s hand. “But that too.”

“Ah.” Hajime nods. “Hey, Uncle?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you two okay?” Hajime asks, curious and concerned but careful not to pry.

Yuto only smiles like he isn’t surprised. “We’re gonna be fine.”

The second Hajime opens the door to his best friend’s bedroom, the first thing he’s greeted with is:

“Milk bread!” Oikawa cheers, reaching out to him with grabby hands.

“Actually, my name’s Iwa-chan.” Hajime says, setting the plastic bag down on the bedside table and handing Oikawa his food. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that.” Oikawa blinks in awe, “Milk bread _and_ Iwa-chan admitting he’s Iwa-chan? Best day ever.”

“I got you banana milk too.”

“You’re the _best.”_

“But it’s not from that brand you really like. The convenience store said they wouldn’t have any stock of it for a while.”

“This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime turns to finally take a good look at him, watching intently as Oikawa hummed happily as he munched his bread. 

He makes his way to his side, sitting next to him with his back turned. “Are you feeling better?”

He hears the chewing pause and feels Oikawa squirm in his position. 

“Iwa-chan,” He says in that dumb perky tone of voice, “Are you my mom?”

“I’m being serious.” Hajime bites back, turning around to look at him, so he knows he means it. “You really fucking scared me, you know that?”

Oikawa’s expression turns tender, having the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Hajime bites the inside of his cheek. “You gonna tell me what happened?” 

He waits for Oikawa to answer, but he stays quiet.

“You really aren’t? You don’t think I should know after I had to see you like that?”

“I’m not telling you because it doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Oikawa says with a tone that Hajime knows better than to try and argue with, “And because it’s settled now. I’m okay, see? I’m okay.”

Hajime feels himself getting upset but does his best to keep it in. He takes a deep breath in and then out. 

“Fine. You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But don’t say it has nothing to do with me.” He says and he realizes he sounds more hurt than angry, “I was the one you called. I was the hand you held. I was the one who held you to sleep that night. Don’t say it has nothing to do with me. I’m your best friend, damn it. You have _everything_ to do with me.”

Oikawa, strangely, at that moment, looks like he’s about to cry. He opens his mouth, as if ready to say something, but closes it again. And Hajime recognizes that feeling because it happens to him all the time. He waits.

Oikawa looks him in the eye and smiles.

“I love you.” is what he says. And his voice is so quiet, cracking all over the place, and Hajime can tell that he means it so much, to the point that he can barely even say it out loud. He looks so broken as he says it. 

Hajime doesn’t understand.

“I love you too.” He manages to say back, hesitantly resting his hand on top of Oikawa’s. “‘Course I do.”

Oikawa’s expression says he has more to say and he looks at Hajime like he _doesn’t get it._ But he says nothing more than that, sniffling, and going back to his milk bread. Hajime feels winded.

“You’re so stupid.” Oikawa says suddenly, breaking the short lived silence.

“The fuck? Why are you suddenly mad at me?” Hajime furrows his eyebrows.

“Because you’re _stupid.”_ Oikawa repeats, motioning to his table. “Give me my banana milk.”

He does. “How long is it gonna take for your knee to heal?”

“I think I heard him say a month or something.” He answers, sipping his milk angrily. It’s a sight.

Hajime slumps. “You can’t go to prom, huh?”

Oikawa only raises his eyebrows at him, mouth forming an amused smirk. “I wasn’t going to prom, regardless.”

“What? Why the fuck not?”

“Well, unlike _some_ people,” Oikawa says pointedly, “I know how to keep a pinky promise.”

Hajime makes a face. “What do you mean keep a—“ he stops in the middle of his sentence, as a vague flashback plays like a movie scene in his head, _Carrie_ , middle school, oh _god,_ “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh.”_ Oikawa huffs. “I’ve been abandoned and betrayed but it’s fine, Iwa-chan! We made that pact when we were young and only halfway through puberty. We didn’t take into account the fact that you might kiss kiss fall in love.”

Hajime nearly winces. 

“Please don’t quote Ouran High School Host Club right now.” He groans, “Shit, Oikawa, I’m sorry. I forgot about that.”

“Whatever, it’s just some dumb middle school pact.” Oikawa shrugs, taking another bite of his milk bread, “I’ll hold it over your head forever, but it’s fine!”

“Well, since it’s just some dumb middle school pact, then just go anyway. Since I’m going.” Hajime says, nudging his side. “It’ll be fun. Makki and Mattsun are going stag. They’ll keep you company too.”

He scoffs. “Thanks, Iwa-chan, but even if I wanted to go, I can’t even dance. Plus, seeing all the lovebirds slow dancing is just going to make me feel lonely because it’s not like I’m gonna be able to slow dance with the person I li— _fuck.”_

The _what?_ The _who?_ The _fuck?_

“You like someone?” Hajime asks, sounding hollow without meaning to. “You… since when? What? _Who?”_

“That’s unimportant.” Oikawa says hurriedly, but his eyes keep shifting, and Hajime can tell when he’s panicking. “It doesn’t matter, it’s just some girl, and anyway, I just wanna stay at home and eat my weight in mochi.”

 _Some girl,_ Hajime repeats in his head. _It’s just some girl._

It repeats in his head, like a broken CD, until the words turn muffled and incoherent. 

He realizes that heartbreak feels a lot like drowning.

 _Just some girl._ Hajime realizes he doesn’t even wanna know.

“I can ditch.” He says, looking at Oikawa hopefully, not thinking about Haruka, not thinking about _anything,_ just hoping to God that he’ll tell him not to go. “Keep our pact and everything.”

Oikawa almost looks like he’s going to say yes. But instead, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “After you pulled off that grand promposal with _my_ help? Excuse me. That was my effort too.”

“Oikawa…” Hajime starts, without even knowing what he wants to say.

“Just have fun, Iwa-chan. Have enough fun for the both of us!” He says, smiling in a way that Hajime almost feels offended by, wondering if Oikawa really believed he was being fooled. “Besides… I need some space for a little while.”

And that stings. Because whenever Oikawa said he needed space, that never meant from him. 

He looks away. “Okay.”

And he wonders, how can someone who’s always been so close, suddenly feel so far away?

__

He doesn’t mean to sound overdramatic as he says this, but he has never regretted a decision so badly in his life. He doesn’t even remember what fucking demon had possessed him to publicly prompose to his girlfriend who he’s now planning to break up with. He feels like the meme of that dog drinking coffee in a burning house, saying _this is fine._

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scolds, slapping his back swiftly before returning to his ministrations on Hajime’s hair, “Keep still if you don’t want to look like a fucking idiot later. Do _not_ embarrass me like that.”

“You’re not my date.” Hajime argues.

Oikawa makes a face as if genuinely offended. “I am your _wife.”_

“Why are you even here?” Hajime groans, “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“I _am_ in bed.” Oikawa says, motioning to where they’re sitting. “Your bed.”

Hajime groans again, loudly.

“Stop being a brat.” Oikawa tsks, “I was not going to miss seeing you in an actual tuxedo. If you thought that I would miss taking a prom picture with you on the stairs the way those American people in movies do it, you thought wrong.” 

“Well, that explains your getup.” Hajime mumbles. “But since you’re already dressed, can’t you just come?”

“There!” He exclaims instead of answering, handing Hajime a handheld mirror. “What do you think?”

Hajime doesn’t give a shit. “Oikawa,” He tries again, “Come with us.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs, wrapping his arms around his torso and resting his chin on his shoulder, “I will be with you in spirit.”

“Stop talking like you’re dead.” 

They do end up taking the staircase prom picture right before Makki and Mattsun come to pick him up.

“Have fun, you three!” Oikawa yells, waving like an army wife sending her husband out into the war as they walk out the door, “Don’t forget me!”

  
  


Mattsun is the first to break the silence in the car.

“You haven’t broken up with her?” He asks, peering at Hajime.

“I promposed so publicly.” He sighs, leaning his head against the window. “How could I break up with her right before prom? Wouldn’t that have been cruel?”

“And breaking up with her right after prom isn’t?” Makki argues.

“Look, I didn’t know what to do, okay? I can’t think of a nice way to break up with her. Can you?”

The two stay quiet, not knowing how to answer that. All things considered, there really wasn’t a nice way to break up with someone. Especially over something like…

“Now that I think about it, we never got to hear your answer.” Mattsun brings up.

Hajime’s hands tighten around his knees. “What answer?”

“Your questioning.” He clarifies, “Is it because you have feelings for Oikawa?”

God. He’s gonna fucking throw up all over his tux. Oikawa’s gonna murder him. He takes a deep breath. 

“I don’t know about anything else yet,” Hajime bites the inside of his lip. “— but he’s the only one I don’t mind making room for.”

Makki and Mattsun look at him like he makes sense but doesn’t at the same time.

“Gay people and their fucking analogies.” Makki sighs. “You’re gonna have to explain whatever the hell that means one of these days.”

“Why are you saying ‘gay people’ like you’re not the ‘gay people.’” Mattsun points out.

“As a gay person, I can hate gay people.” He argues. “Also, damn. I owe Kunimi and Yahaba my fucking lunch money.”

“Wait, you’re gay?” Hajime blinks.

“We told you we started dating, remember? It was the same day you admitted to being a furry.” Mattsun says casually, motioning to himself and Makki.

 _“What?”_ Hajime spits out, “When the fuck… Does Oikawa know?”

“Oikawa has the gaydar of a God,” Makki waves his hand, “— save for _some_ special cases where he chooses to be blind, but he knew we were dating before _we_ knew. Like, I’m talking even before Mattsun started giving Kindaichi terrible advice based off of his own internalized homophobia.”

“It wasn’t _bad_ advice.” Mattsun defends.

“Babe, you told him, and I quote, _it’s only gay if you think it’s gay.”_

“I mean, technically… it’s kinda true?” Hajime says with the intonation of a question.

“You don’t _make out_ with someone semi-regularly and say _no homo,_ what is _wrong_ with you people?”

“Wait, who the hell was Kindaichi making out with?” Hajime asks, looking truly lost.

“Kunimi.” The two say at the same time.

“Kunimi’s gay? Do I just not know _anything_ around here?” He exclaims, on the verge of a mental breakdown. “God, next, you’re gonna tell me Kyoutani is too.”

“Hoo, boy.” Makki whistles. 

“FUCK!” He yells, “What are the goddamn odds? You’re telling me Oikawa _had_ to be the only straight person in our team?”

Mattsun turns to Makki and Hajime can’t exactly describe the expressions on their faces. He’s never seen anything like it before. Confusion? Amusement? Bone deep exhaustion? It reminded him of the face Yuto had made when Oikawa was seven and he’d looked up at him and asked, _‘Hey, dad… If I couldn’t talk when I was a kid… How did you know my name?’_

“Excuse me, sir,” Makki says, craning his neck to talk to the driver, “How far are we? I need to know how many minutes more I have to hold back the urge to jump out this fucking car.”

“Ten minutes, sir.” The driver says. “Please don’t jump out of my car.”

 _No promises,_ Hajime thinks. 

__

Growing up, Hajime had never believed that heaven and hell were real. His teachers would say that if you’re good, you enter the gates of heaven where angels welcome you and you get to have a meet and greet with Jesus, but if you’re bad, you go to hell which they describe as a land made of fire and lava? Sounds weak.

Hajime always had this belief that if Hell were real, for him, it’d probably be a permanently locked room where he’d be forced to relive every single most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him over and over again for all of eternity. 

He’s changed his mind.

Hell was being in the same school gym that he’d found Oikawa lying in agony in just a few weeks ago, slow dancing in a crowd with this really great girl who he just couldn’t bring himself to love. He scans the room and sees couples that look so genuinely taken with each other that they can barely even contain it, while all he can focus on are Makki and Mattsun whispering to each other back at their table, giving him the occasional worried glance.

Also, are they _really_ playing A Thousand Years by Christina Perri right now? How old is this song? He’s about to scoff about it but right at that moment, Haruka turns her head and says into his ear, “Oh, I love this song.”

Wow. 

Now more than ever, Hajime really fucking wished Oikawa was here. 

“Hajime?” Haruka says, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

“Mmm.” He hums. He pauses. The realization hits. “Wait, what?”

“I know you said yes to me without thinking about it.” Haruka explains and she sounds so at peace as she does, without a hint of anger or frustration, “I guess I just thought that if I gave it a little more time, you’d come around eventually.”

The song switches to Photograph by Ed Sheeran. God, this really was hell. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Hajime says, squeezing her hand as they sway to the music. “I do like you, you know that, right?”

He feels Haruka shake her head. “It’s okay. I know you tried. You’re a good guy, Hajime.” She says, rubbing his back gently, “I just think you have some things you need to figure out… right?”

Hajime really wants to cry, suddenly. “Wow. I’m really lucky it was you.”

“Now, don’t say shit like that.” Haruka says, voice trembling. “You’re gonna make me cry and my makeup looks good tonight.”

Hajime chuckles softly, holding her closer. They’re quiet for a little while, resting their heads on each other’s shoulders, swaying from side to side. The music is terrible but the moment is warm.

“Is it Oikawa?” She asks. 

Hajime’s hold on her waist tightens. “Yeah.” He says, “I’m sorry.”

He feels her body start to shake, and for a moment, he’s scared she’s crying but he realizes she’s laughing. “Ah, man. I really should’ve seen that one coming from a mile away, huh?”

Sometimes, Hajime wonders why it feels like everyone in the world knew about it before he did. 

“What gave me away?” Hajime can’t help but ask.

“I don’t know, Hajime.” She sighs, and even without seeing her face, he knows she’s smiling that soft way she always does, as she slithers her hand in between them and rests it against his chest. “I guess… I felt like there just wasn’t any room for me in here, you know?”

Hajime really does start to tear up at that.

“Yeah,” He manages to say through the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry too.” She says, “Tell Oikawa that… that I said I’m sorry.”

Hajime holds his breath. “Why would you be sorry?”

“That day… during the promposal.” Haruka explains, “The reason I called you Iwa-chan was because I could see the way he was looking at you.”

His chest starts to feel tight. “What do you mean?”

She pauses. “He looks at you the way I kept hoping you’d look at me.”

Hajime slowly pulls away to look her in the eye, half expecting her to be joking. “No, he doesn’t.” 

Haruka’s smile is sad as she squeezes his shoulder. “Yeah, he does… it’s what gave _him_ away.”


	2. Chapter 2

Oikawa sniffs. “Yahaba-chan, can you pass the tissues?”

Yahaba groans, untangling himself from the Oikawa, Kunimi, Kindaichi pile on the couch as he reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table. “Have you cried it out of your system yet?”

“Maybe we should watch Kimi No Nawa too.” He says pitifully, blowing his nose. “Just to be sure.”

“On it.” Kunimi says, lazily reaching for the remote.

“You guys are the _best,”_ He cries, gathering his three juniors in his arms, “I have the best underlings in the world. I can’t believe you’d come here to be with me during my most trying times… even if I’m pretty sure Makki just paid you.”

“I wish.” Kunimi deadpans.

“You _love_ me.” Oikawa says, booping Kunimi in the nose, making the boy grimace. “Followed me all the way to Aoba Johsai and everything.”

“I didn’t pass Shiratorizawa but go off, I guess.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he really did follow you.” Kindaichi playfully whispers.

“Oh!” Oikawa exclaims, as if he just remembered. “I haven’t asked. Have you two finally gotten your shit together and made it official?”

“Oh… yeah.” Kindaichi blushes. “Hehe.”

Yahaba scoffs at the side as Kunimi rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, only took like, 500 years.” Yahaba points out.

“In my defense,” Kindaichi explains, “I _did_ ask for advice from Matsukawa-san and he told me not to overthink things. He said that men can be affectionate without being gay and I took it to heart!”

“That only counts for shit like hugging and maybe even hand holding! Not spending your weekends with servings of fresh cup of dick in your ass!” Yahaba yells.

“Hey!” Kindaichi says, pointing a finger accusingly, “If there was anyone’s dick in an ass, it was _mine.”_

“You guys lost your _virginity_ before me?” Oikawa laments, “Oh god, I’m in love with my straight and taken childhood best friend, I have a useless knee, I’m not even attending my own prom right now, _and_ my juniors have had sex before me.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Oikawa-san!” Kindaichi tries to encourage, “It’s really not a big deal. Kunimi and I are pretty much still bros except we have sexy times once in a while!”

“Holy fuck.” Kunimi grumbles, rubbing his temples. “How am I dating the most heterosexual homosexual there is?” 

“No, no, you’re forgetting one other person.” Yahaba points out.

The three of them are quiet for a moment. 

_“Ahhhhhhhh.”_

“What?” Oikawa asks, scanning the three of them, cautiously. “What? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing.” Kunimi says, sinking back into the couch as he hovers over the _Play_ button for Kimi No Nawa. “Let’s just watch the movie.”

“Wait, no, tell me!” He insists, “Who’s a straighter gay man than Kindaichi in the team? The only one straighter than him is Iwa-chan and he’s _actually_ straight.”

“Please, _please_ play the movie before I commit a crime.” Yahaba begs.

Kindaichi appeases him with a shoulder pat as Kunimi presses _Play._

“Hmph!” Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms. “Whatever. I’ll find out on my own. We may all be gay here, but I’m still the one with the most impeccable gaydar.” He says, sinking back into the couch. “I’m just upset that Iwa-chan had to be our token straight.” 

A beat passes.

“Yahaba-san, remember that he’s injured.” 

“FUCK.”

__

The second they walk out of the double doors, Hajime can finally breathe. 

They ditch booking a car and decide to walk their way home. It takes them over an hour. Hajime keeps waiting for either of his friends to say something, some form of lecture on not using other people to run away from their feelings or how to better deal with realizing you have feelings for your best friend. Instead, he’s met with silence for the majority of the journey. 

It’s only once they’re close to the intersection between Hajime’s street and theirs, that someone speaks up.

“You broke up with her?” Makki asks. 

They all slow down, Hajime finding amusement in the synchronized sound of their footsteps against the concrete. “She broke up with me.”

“Ah,” Mattsun says, kicking a pebble. “She knew?”

Hajime nods, keeping his eyes trained forward. “She knew,” He sighs, “She was really great about it too, so _that_ felt like shit.”

There’s a quiet pause again after he says that, until Makki finally looks at him. 

“So?” He asks, expectant. “What are you gonna do next?”

Hajime huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t even know that I liked men and suddenly I have feelings for my childhood best friend. I don’t know what the fuck is going on right now. If there’s a way for me to come out of this unscathed, without losing Oikawa, then I’m open to your suggestions.”

Mattsun smiles a little at that. “Honestly, I don’t think either of us are in any position to be giving you advice on this shit because, hell, _we’ve_ barely figured any of this out. But I can tell you one thing.”

“What?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you could possibly do that would make you lose Oikawa.” He says without a hint of doubt, “You’re probably the most important person in the fucking world to him, only behind his own dad. And we’re graduating in a few days, you know? Are you really gonna let high school end without telling him how you feel?”

Hajime has to hold back a scoff. “Everyone always talks like Oikawa thinks the sun shines out of my ass.”

“He does.” They say in complete unison.

“He _doesn’t.”_ He argues, “I’m his best friend and the one who’s put up with him the longest and I’m important to him, he loves me, I _know_ that. But that won’t change the fact that it’ll be fucking weird for your best friend of almost ten years to suddenly tell you, _hey, I know you probably thought I was straight this whole time, but actually these days, ninety percent of the time we’re together I think about what it’d be like to kiss you.”_

He looks up at them, as if searching for answers. “What would you do then? You don’t wanna lose your best friend but it’s fucking _weird,_ right? And you love them, so you don’t wanna reject them and hurt them, but what else can you do? You don’t wanna lead them on, so you distance yourself. So, you try to change how you treat them. And somehow, even if you don’t _completely_ lose them, you lose them anyway.”

They both stare at him like they don’t know what to say. He almost expects them to just say nothing at all. It’s Makki who breaks the oppressive silence.

“And what if he feels the same way?”

Hajime wants to say that he doesn’t think it’s possible, that he laughs at the mere thought, that Oikawa already said he likes _some girl,_ but the more he looks back, the more he thinks that maybe it wasn’t such a far off assumption, that maybe… but _still._

“That scares me more.” He says, honestly. “Because if we don’t work out, I won’t just lose a boyfriend. I’ll lose my best friend too.”

“Jeez, Hajime,” Mattsun huffs out a breath, “You’re thinking too far ahead.”

“That’ll probably be the cosmic karma for asking too much from someone who you already have so much of.” 

“I’m trying to find the fine line between giving you advice as your friend and overstepping, so,” Mattsun nudges him with his elbow, “We won’t push you to confess when you aren’t ready. But at the very fucking least… don’t panic and make this a reason to ruin things between you two. Especially not now.” 

“He’s trying to be a champ about it, but he messed up his knee and couldn’t go to prom with us. And there’s the fact that we don’t know what the fuck it is that made him… well, you know, whatever happened that night.” Makki adds to that. “He’d probably appreciate you at least showing, if not telling him, that he means more to you than he thinks.”

They reach the intersection. 

Mattsun turns to Hajime, “Makki and I are gonna get some shit from the convenience store and probably share a beer or something. You coming or are you heading home?”

The whole night, Hajime had only really wanted to do one thing.

“I’m heading home.” He says, “But… thanks. Really.” 

The two nod at him, give him one last lingering look as they turn around towards the convenience store and Hajime makes his way down the opposite road.

 _He’s heading home,_ he thinks, as he walks down the path he’s had memorized since he was seven years old.

__

  
  


“What are you guys doing here?” Hajime blinks at his three juniors who’d been making their way out of the Oikawa residence just as he was about to make his way in.

“We were babysitting.” Kunimi says, as if he’d just gone through a war thrice and built a home with his bare hands. “We watched _My Best Friend’s Wedding_ twice and by the end of it, he was so sleepy that he demanded we carry him bridal style to his bed.”

“And before you ask,” Yahaba adds, “Yes, he specifically said bridal style. If you’re going to ask us why, we could not tell you.”

“He’s probably dead to the world right now but you’re welcome to go check in on him, Iwaizumi-san.” Kindaichi says, throwing an arm around Kunimi. “We’re gonna head home now.”

Hajime had barely even gotten a word in. 

“O-oh, okay, I guess. Get home safe, you three.” He stammers, “You don’t live too far, right?”

“We’ll be fine, dad.” Yahaba jokes. “Was prom fun?”

“I’m pretty sure they played an entire Ed Sheeran album and I also went through a breakup while slow dancing so yeah, I guess fun was one way to put it.” He says, walking up the front steps. “Anyway, I’ll see you guys.”

He shuts the door in their faces.

A beat of silence.

“So,” Kunimi says as he turns around, “Are we gonna talk about how he broke up with his girlfriend and went directly here after prom?”

“If all goes well, tomorrow we’ll get a _guess who lost their virginity_ text in the group chat.”

“Can you fuck someone good even if they have a funky knee?” Kindaichi asks as they start walking.

“Sidewards?”

“Maybe if he just put one leg up his shoulder, right?”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

“It’s _educational.”_

  
  


Hajime wonders if it’s creepy to watch your best friend sleeping. He’s pretty sure it is. This plus the fact that he’s here unannounced, really just makes him come off as a stalker and he can only hope and pray that Oikawa won’t wake up and start screaming. 

He crouches by the bed, resting his chin on the edge, playing with a stray strand of Oikawa’s hair with his finger. The boy’s nose twitches a little, a habit he’s always had since they were kids. Hajime chuckles under his breath.

It really is scary now, just how closely they’ve been woven together over the years, and just how badly Hajime wants to close the remaining distance. 

He doesn’t realize it when Oikawa’s eyelashes start fluttering. His thoughts only get interrupted by a groggy and faint, “Iwa-chan?”

Hajime inwardly flinches. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Oikawa blinks sleepily, his face scrunching up as he tries to focus his gaze on him. Hajime’s chest squeezes almost painfully at the sight. 

“What’re you doing here?” He mumbles, trying to sit up in all his bed-headed glory. “You’re still in your tux… d’you just get back from prom?”

Hajime hums. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t too miserable without me.”

Oikawa makes a face. “Was fine…” He says, closing his eyes again, “The kids came to keep me company.”

“I saw them on the way in.” Hajime says, properly running his hand through Oikawa’s hair now that he was awake. “Stop being such a handful to them, will you?”

“We’re graduating soon.” Oikawa pouts, “This is my revenge for them being such a handful to me all these years.”

Hajime chuckles but says nothing.

“Iwa-chan,” He says, “Why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be having more fun with Haruka-chan?”

Maybe it was his conversation with Haruka that did it, or everything that’s happened that day, but he can’t stop himself from being honest. 

“We broke up. And I wanted to see your dumb face.”

Oikawa’s eyes open at that, the grogginess gone. “What?”

Hajime shrugs, smiling weakly. “It was mutual. It wasn’t bad. I’m okay… we’re okay.”

Oikawa reaches for Hajime’s hand squeezing it tightly, pulling it towards his chest. “M’sorry, Iwa-chan. I made you look so good for tonight, too.”

Hajime’s really having a hard time keeping anything down tonight. “Can I stay over?”

Hajime somehow always had a feeling that as much as he could read Oikawa, Oikawa could read him better. It’s why having feelings for him was so scary. Since they were kids, Hajime never really had to explain himself to Oikawa about anything. How he felt, what he meant, Oikawa knew. He always knew. When they were kids, they used to have sleepovers all the time, especially when they were feeling like shit. It was usually Oikawa who asked. The only time Hajime ever did was when he was ten, around the time his parents had just gotten divorced. 

Just like back then, Oikawa wordlessly makes space, raising the covers a little higher to usher him in. 

He shrugs off his blazer and settles down into the space Oikawa had left for him. His clothes made things a little uncomfortable, but lying in bed with Oikawa the way they always did when they were kids, brought him a sense of comfort and familiarity he couldn’t find in anything and anyone else.

A part of him yearns for them to be wrapped in each other's arms again, the way they were just a few weeks ago. 

He knows he shouldn’t. There isn’t an excuse for it this time.

Instead, he turns to his side, content with lying down face to face, seeing Oikawa at his most peaceful, helping him feel calmer somehow.

Oikawa doesn’t even open his eyes when he says, “You’re staring at me.”

“How'd you know?”

“I just do.”

Hajime clenches his fingers around the pillow. “We’re graduating soon.”

Oikawa hums. “Yeah.”

“Where are we going?” Hajime asks. And it’s the first time he’s ever asked it like that. It’s the first time he’s ever asked out loud, because the rest of the time, it went unsaid. The fact that obviously, wherever they were going, they’d be going together. “There are a lot of colleges with strong volleyball teams.”

The silence that follows is a long one. Hajime almost thinks that the boy had fallen asleep while trying to think of an answer, before Oikawa suddenly opens his eyes and smiles as he says, “I’m not going to college, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime’s breath hitches. “You’re… not going?”

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes again. “I’m gonna skip that part and start earning money… and work on going pro already, too. I’m planning to settle in Osaka.” 

“But…” _But what,_ Hajime thinks to himself. What exactly was he about to say? He always knew Oikawa was going to go pro. He’s always known Oikawa didn’t give a shit about school, in the first place. _But what,_ he wonders.

Oikawa only reaches out, taking both of Hajime’s hands in his, laying them clasped together between them.

“Don’t worry about me.” He whispers, “I know you’re gonna kill it in college. I don’t need to be there to know.”

Hajime’s really glad Oikawa has his eyes closed because he wouldn’t have been able to stop the tears from falling for the life of him. He doesn’t even fucking know why he’s crying.

Oikawa’s eyes stay closed. But Hajime knows he can tell. He can always tell.

Oikawa squeezes his hands tighter. 

“Did I do something?” He asks under his breath, wondering why the closer he wanted to be, the further Oikawa seemed to go.

“No.” He answers instantly, “You didn’t do anything. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why?” Hajime asks and he doesn’t explain. He means _why have you been so distant, why are you sad all the time, what are you hiding from me, why does space suddenly include me?_

“Because, Iwa-chan,” He says and Hajime can hear him holding back tears, “I think… we need to live our lives.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Oikawa croaks, stroking the skin at the back of Hajime’s hand with his thumb, “It means that there are things I want to do… and I need to know how to live my life without you being right next to me all the time.”

And this sounds like something Oikawa has said, probably more than once, probably not the way he means it right now, but he asks, “Why would you ever have to be without me?”

Oikawa doesn’t answer his question. He only pulls Hajime closer, pushing his face towards his chest, because of course he knows he’s crying. He can’t fucking stop, though. 

“We’re gonna be fine.” Oikawa promises, “We’re always gonna be fine. We’re us.”

Oikawa strokes his hair the way Hajime had always done for him, all these years, and Hajime’s never felt so young. How was he supposed to live a life without Oikawa? He doesn’t know life without him. Eighteen years in this world and he’d only known seven without him. That wasn’t enough time to know. 

“Sleep, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa says, as if trying to silence his thoughts. “M’right here.”

Would life without Oikawa Tooru be a life at all?

__  
  


The days leading up to their high school graduation feel empty. In retrospect, things actually go on as normal. The morning after prom, Hajime wakes up to Oikawa acting completely normal, like their conversation the night before had never happened, and any attempt at breaching that topic again would be shrugged off. Hajime had stopped trying. 

He knew better than anyone that once Oikawa decided on something, no one would be able to change his mind. Not even him. 

He wasn’t going to college. He was going to make money. He was going to go pro. End of story. 

And so, things go on as normal. They get their final grades, they attend graduation practice, they eat with their friends, they bond with their juniors, Oikawa’s fangirls cry, and all things considered, life keeps going on as normal.

But Hajime feels homesick.

When they were kids, Oikawa used to spend summers with his grandparents. Hajime can’t remember too clearly anymore, but he’s pretty sure he’d be there for at least a month or something. Oikawa loved his grandparents but it was always a dramatic ordeal having to get him in the car. He used to cling to Hajime and say things like, _‘You can’t take me from him, I won’t let you!’_ And while Hajime would laugh, his iron grip on Oikawa’s coat said everything. And then, their parents would manage to tear them apart eventually and Oikawa would be gone for a month. The worst part of it was how they didn’t own cell phones yet at the time, so they had to make do with talking on the landline and they weren’t even allowed to use it for too long. 

He remembers that feeling well. Oikawa was the one who would be away from home. But Hajime was the one who would be feeling homesick. 

He feels like he’s seven again. At least back then, even when they were far away from each other, whenever they were on the phone at least, Hajime still felt like he was right there. 

Well right now, Oikawa’s just right there. But he’s never felt so far away. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa calls out, motioning to the stairs leading to the rooftop, “You coming to eat with us or not?”

Hajime looks up. “Yeah.”

Oikawa smiles, turns back around, turning his attention back to his conversation with Makki. 

Oikawa had always taken up all the space in his life. Now, he’s telling him that he wants to learn to live without him? What would Hajime be left with then? It’s funny because he remembers telling his mom that Oikawa took up too much space.

They’re days away from graduation. And Hajime… feels empty. 

__

“Oikawa, I swear to fucking god.” Hajime hisses, “If you mess up my hair, I will have your head for breakfast.”

“ _Ooh,_ which head?” 

Hajime reaches back and slaps Oikawa in the face. Dear _God._

“Don’t touch my face!” Oikawa exclaims, “Do you know how hard I worked to make my skin look good today? I’m not getting my diploma with a hand mark on my cheek!”

It’s such a trivial moment. And yet, Hajime is on the verge of a breakdown over how much he’s going to miss this.

He sits still as Oikawa continues lathering his hair in gel. “You’ll visit, right?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa lets out a sigh. “Are you an idiot? Of course, I will. Whenever I can.”

“Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complains. “Meanie!”

Hajime smiles, closing his eyes and letting Oikawa finish whatever he was trying to do because as much of a fight he was putting up, he trusted Oikawa with his hair, at least.

After a few more minutes, he feels Oikawa’s hands land on his shoulders. “There. You’re done.”

Hajime reaches for the handheld mirror on the bedside table and sees that he looks decent. He huffs, “Now, who’s supposed to do my hair for me in college, huh?” 

“You’re being particularly whiny about this, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa points out with an amused smile, “I didn’t expect this from you. From me, maybe. But not from you.”

“I’m _not_ being whiny.” Hajime turns around, glaring. “If this was just about you skipping college and wanting to go pro sooner, then that’s fine. I support you. I saw that coming anyway.”

“Then?” Oikawa raises his eyebrows.

“This is about you skipping college, wanting to go pro sooner, _and_ being so fucking weird the past few months.” Hajime says, honestly. “It’s like… it feels like you’re trying to distance yourself from me or something. Are you?”

“Not everything’s about _you,_ you know.”

Wow. 

“Fine.” He says, turning back around. “Don’t tell me, then.”

“Iwa-chan, come on,” Oikawa begs, scrambling to sit beside him instead of behind him, “It’s our graduation. Let’s not ruin today, okay? I don’t wanna have a fight with you before I leave.”

Hajime doesn’t answer, looking down at his lap. After a few seconds of silence, he feels Oikawa rest his head on his shoulder. “Please? I’m gonna _miss_ you. You really want to spend our last moments being mad at me?”

Hajime takes a deep, calming breath. “You better come see us in Tokyo.” 

He feels rather than sees Oikawa’s smile. “And you guys better watch my games.”

Hajime scoffs. “You’d drag us by the hair if we didn’t.”

Oikawa lifts his head, faces him, and opens his arms. “Hug.”

“No.”

_“Iwa-chan!”_

“No, what the hell,” Hajime groans, standing up, “We haven’t even graduated yet, save it.”

“Hmph.” Oikawa pouts, dropping his arms. _“Fine._ But we’re taking graduation pictures out in the garden where you carry me bridal style and everything, like what those Americans in movies do.” 

“No.”

So, after taking graduation pictures out in the garden where he carries Oikawa bridal style and everything like what those Americans in movies do, they all head to the graduation ceremony with their parents.

The ceremony drags on and on and on and on. It almost feels like it’s never going to end and Hajime almost falls asleep three times and his seatmate has to nudge him awake every time. All he remembers from the ceremony is that their team brought the most embarrassing tarpaulin he’d ever seen with a picture of Oikawa, Makki, Mattsun, and him from when they were freshmen. On top, there’s just a line of digits in Comic Sans that, apparently, is the contact number for a senior citizens home and he thinks, you know what, _valid_. 

He also remembers Oikawa’s fangirls taking pictures of him with their DSLR cameras while crying, as he threw up peace signs and finger hearts. Who the hell did he think he was, a BTS member?

The ceremony doesn’t exactly give him room to be emotional. He zones out through the speeches, they get their diplomas, huzzah. It’s only once it’s over and he finds himself face to face with his volleyball team of three years, some of them he’d even been with for six, that it sinks in.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so _muuuuuuuch.”_

Oikawa is openly sobbing, dragging all their juniors into his arms, and Hajime snorts because Kyoutani looks like he’s constipated. 

“Come on, Trashykawa, that’s enough.” He sighs, dragging his best friend by the back of his collar. “You’re scaring the kids.”

 _“IWA-CHAAAAAAAAAAN,”_ He cries, throwing his arms around his neck and Hajime can feel both tears and snot against his skin, but he decides he can kill him for it later. “I’m gonna…” He hiccups, “I’m gonna miss _yoouuuuuu.”_ The last part of that coming out as a sob.

“He almost sounds like he’s singing.” He hears a fangirl say from a few steps away, “He’s so talented.”

“I am _not_ gonna miss that.” Hajime mumbles to himself.

“What?” Oikawa sniffles, lifting his head from his shoulder.

Hajime laughs.

“Stop laughing!” He exclaims loudly, “How could you laugh at my pain!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I haven’t seen you look this ugly in a while.” Hajime replies, “It makes me happy.”

“Weren’t they just hugging?” Kindaichi asks, “Is Oikawa-san trying to choke him right now?”

“Don’t question it.” Kunimi shakes his head. “Just let it happen.”

“I can’t believe they’re graduating.” Yahaba sighs, leaning against the wall as he watches his two seniors in the middle of a squabble. “They’re graduating without even getting their shit together. I always hoped I’d get to see them be an actual couple before high school was over.”

“I don’t even know about that anymore.” Kindaichi says, “I mean, to this day, as much as we joke about it, we can’t even confirm whether Iwaizumi-san is actually gay or not.” 

“I can’t say shit about his sexuality.” Makki says, making the three jump. “But when it comes to Oikawa, he’s pretty aware of how he feels about him.”

Yahaba blinks. “Are you telling me he likes him back?”

“You can say that.” Mattsun joins in the conversation. 

“What the f… then what are we doing here, we have to go and tell them?” Kindaichi exclaims, about to rush forward, before being stopped by Kunimi’s grip on the back of his shirt collar, Yahaba’s hand around his wrist, and Makki and Mattsun’s arms coming out in front of him. 

“You idiot.” Kunimi deadpans. “You can’t just rush in and do that, who do you think you are?”

Kindaichi blinks innocently. “Their junior who cares about them?”

“Yeah, and Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa-san are their _best friends_ , yet they haven’t stormed in to reveal everything.” Kunimi explains, “Why do you think that is?”

Kindaichi turns to the two questioningly.

Mattsun sighs. “As much as we want to just knock their heads together and let the ending credits roll, it can’t really work that way. Hajime didn’t just realize he has feelings for Oikawa. He also realized that he’s a guy who likes another guy. And that’s tough. We’d all know that.”

“Plus, the person he has feelings for is his childhood best friend who he’s believed his whole life to be straight.” Makki explains further, “He even said that if Oikawa did like him back, it wouldn’t scare him any less, because the thought of being in a relationship freaks him out. So, there’s the fear of losing him, the fear of things not working out, the fear of having lived his whole life without realizing this part of him...”

Kindaichi slowly steps back to lean against the wall, lowering his head as his seniors’ words sink in. 

“And plus…” Yahaba starts, his gaze resting on Oikawa from a few feet away, tearily thanking his fangirls one by one, “— there’s something that’s been really off about the captain for a while now, that I feel has more to do than just Iwaizumi-san.”

“I just think that there are things they need to figure out on their own.” Mattsun says. “And things that they need to figure out _together_ , without the rest of us trying to give our own opinions.”

“Or maybe you guys should just stop being creepy and keep your noses out of a relationship that’s not yours.” Kyoutani says, before uncrossing his legs and walking off, “Let’s go, I’m fucking hungry.”

Kunimi turns to give Yahaba a look. “What exactly do you see in him? Look at his head. Why does he have black lines there? He looks like a basketball.”

“Kunimi, your boyfriend looks like a turnip.” 

_“Hey!”_

Kunimi narrows his eyes. “Touché.”

“HEY!” 

“Guys, come on!” Oikawa yells, waving them over with a tissue, “Are you guys eating barbecue with us or not?!”

“You used that to blow your nose, Trashykawa, jesus christ.” Hajime grimaces.

“You think they’ll ever get their shit together?” Kindaichi asks, genuinely concerned.

“They will. I know it.” Yahaba says and there isn’t a hint of doubt in his voice. “Maybe not now, maybe not even soon, but eventually.” 

__

Oikawa leaves the week after graduation. He doesn’t even stay for the summer, despite everyone’s protests. The days leading up to it, Hajime helps him pack. Picks out what to bring, what to keep for memories’ sake, and what to throw out. (“Shittykawa, throw that the _fuck_ out.” “But, Iwa-chan, this is the first shirt I ever stole from you! It’s special!” “It hasn’t been washed in ten years and a roach just ran out of it. _Burn it.”)_

For someone who’d spent their entire graduation day crying, Oikawa doesn’t cry at all afterwards. The seven days they have left together, Oikawa doesn’t cry, Hajime doesn’t cry, and neither of them talk about what’s to come. They pack, they throw things out, and they talk like they can still meet up as usual a week later. Yuto comes in and helps them once in a while, only for Oikawa to shoo him away and tell him to rest whenever he can rest. (“You’d think _you_ were his dad.” “Shut up. It’s for his own good.” “Okay, dad.” “Wow, Iwa-chan, you’re into that? You just had to say so, baby bo—” “I will destroy you.”)

It only starts to sink in the night before D-Day. Hajime remembers all those summers that Oikawa had to leave for his grandparents’ place and even knowing that he’d come back, even knowing that they’d be able to talk on the phone, Oikawa would always appear at their doorstep the night before, asking if he could sleep over. He’d usually spend the night crying dramatically, go on a spiel about how the adults are conspiring against them. Hajime would act annoyed but secretly cherished those nights, secretly wondering what it would be like if they could sleep like that every night, just like his mom and dad would. There were a lot of nights that Hajime hated the short distance that separated him and Oikawa’s houses, wondering what it would be like to close that distance permanently. Forever. 

It’s the night before D-Day. Like an idiot, Hajime waits. 

He never comes. 

  
  


Oikawa’s grandparents and Hajime’s dad come early in the morning just to see Oikawa off. They’re bringing grocery bags and everything, as if Yuto _and_ Hajime’s mom hadn’t already overwhelmed the boy with food and necessities they wanted him to bring.

Makki and Mattsun stand on both his sides, groggy from having to wake up so early, looking almost as miserable as Hajime was currently feeling.

“You kids are just growing up so fast.” His mom coos, holding Oikawa’s face in her hands, “You take care of yourself out there, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Aunt Misaki.” He beams, reaching up to hold her wrists gently, “I’ll be just fine. Please take good care of dad for me. I’ll visit as much as I can.”

The smile she gives him looks sad for some reason, but she nods. “You know I will.” She says reverently, like she’s never meant anything more.

“You be good out there, son.” Hajime’s dad says, patting Oikawa on the shoulder. “The city can be a bit intimidating but I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll make it big and call Osaka your own soon enough.”

“Of course, Uncle Kaito.” Oikawa nods, accepting the grocery bags he hands him. “Thanks for these, too.”

“There’s some milk bread in there that you can eat on the trip.”

Oikawa looks up at him, slightly teary eyed. “I always was your favorite son, wasn’t I?”

 _“Hey.”_ Hajime huffs from the side.

Saying goodbye to his grandparents is a whole affair. They both cry and talk about how his mother’s parents are residing in Osaka and will probably check up on him once in a while, and they also tell him not to bother his grandfather on the way there. It’s genuinely the first time Hajime’s hearing about them. He looks into the car and sees an old man sitting in the driver’s seat.

 _Huh,_ Hajime thinks, _so that’s who that was._

“Stop crying!” Oikawa exclaims, wiping both his grandparents’ tears while obviously holding back his own, “I knew I got my dramatic streak from somewhere!”

It takes a while before he gets to his friends. 

The second Oikawa locks eyes with them, Hajime feels something inside of him break, seeing how hard the boy was trying to keep himself together.

None of them say anything. Nothing needs to be said. 

Oikawa hugs Mattsun first and they do for a long time. They pull away wordlessly, with a pat on each other’s backs. He moves on to Makki, who pulls him in instantly. He hears him whisper something like, _‘you’ll be okay’_ into Oikawa’s ear. He nods into his shoulder. 

The second he pulls away from Makki, Hajime knows that he wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye without crying, so he drags him by the wrist and wraps his arms around him as tightly as he can. Oikawa melts into him easily, his grip on the back of Hajime’s shirt so tight that he can feel him trembling. 

“Don’t say anything, okay?” Oikawa whispers shakily, “ _Don’t_ say anything.”

Hajime doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to, so he does nothing but hold him tighter, running a hand through Oikawa’s hair one last time. It shouldn’t feel so much like goodbye because it’s not like they’re never gonna see each other ever again. But it sure feels like the end of something. 

It feels like the short distance between them that they’d never been able to close, growing bigger, wider, until they wouldn’t ever be able to close it at all. 

Hajime knows what he means by _don’t say anything._ He means, _don’t say goodbye because then, I won’t be able to bring myself to go._

A small part of Hajime wishes they were seven again. For Oikawa to start crying, clinging onto him, and have the adults have to tear them apart again. Because this time, Hajime won’t let go. But they’re not kids anymore. 

This time, Oikawa takes a deep breath, and pulls away all by himself.

He presses their foreheads together and Hajime doesn’t dare look. 

“It’s only 926 kilometers apart, Iwa-chan.” He says, “And once you’re in Tokyo, it’ll only be 506.” 

Hajime chuckles breathily. “Fuck you, don’t say that like it’s nothing. You’ve only ever been five houses away from me.” 

“Five houses away, five hundred six kilometers away, five planets away, I don’t give a shit.” Oikawa says, resting his hand on the back of Hajime’s neck and squeezing. “We’ll always get to each other somehow. Right?”

And Hajime has a shit ton of questions. Why he has to go so soon, why he has to go at all, why he’s always so sad, why he’s been so weird, why he didn’t come last night, _why?_

But for this, he doesn’t have any. No questions, no fear, no inkling of doubt. 

“Obviously.” He manages to say, “We’re us.”

Hajime still doesn’t look at him, but he knows he’s smiling. “We’re us.”

He doesn’t open his eyes until Oikawa turns away. He doesn’t even watch as he says goodbye to his dad. He can only hear the sounds of Oikawa telling him, _‘You better take care of yourself, because if I hear that anything bad happened to you, I am going to punch you, you hear me? I don’t care if you’re my dad!’_ He can’t even look at him as he gets in the car, doesn’t check to see if he waves goodbye from the car window. 

He keeps his eyes on the wheels as they drive away. 

He doesn’t know how long he spends just standing there until he feels his two friends wrap their arms around him as some form of comfort and reassurance. 

“You okay?” Mattsun asks.

Hajime can only nod, not trusting his voice.

Just as Makki and Mattsun are about to say more, he hears a voice call out his name.

“Hajime?” 

He raises his head and meets eyes with Yuto. “I know this day’s been tough already so early in the morning but… there’s something I think you deserve to know. About Oikawa.”

Hajime sees his mom from the corner of his eye approaching them, and she looks like she knows whatever he’s about to say.

“Something I deserve to know?” Hajime repeats. He doesn’t understand why, but he already feels scared. 

“Would you mind coming in for a little while?” He asks, “I think… you might want to sit down for this.”

He feels his mother squeeze his arm comfortingly. “It’s gonna be okay, Hajime.”

Hajime really is scared now. _It’s gonna be okay?_ Why the hell wouldn’t it be?

__

_(Murphy’s Law, n. Everything bad that can happen, will happen.)_

“— Tooru never meant to push you away. He relies on you so much and knows how well you know him, so I think he felt the need to distance himself from you because of how… well, he didn’t know how to deal with it and didn’t want to push the burden onto you. He went lengths to make sure you wouldn’t find out about this, so I ask that you don’t let him know anytime soon.”

_What._

“You’re probably the most important person in the world to him and he knows how much you care about him, so he didn’t wanna worry you, especially when you’d just entered your first relationship and was about to go to prom with her, I guess he didn’t wanna ruin it for you and…”

_What._

“It’s been tough for him and I apologize if him being distant made you think that you’d done something wrong.” Yuto finishes, laying his hand on top of Hajime’s knee. “I assure you it wasn’t that. He was dealing with… some _other_ things, that I think you’d rather hear from him but… for the most part, at least in recent times, it was about this.” 

Hajime doesn’t think he’s breathing right. His vision goes slightly blurry around the edges.

“Hajime, sweetie?” He hears his mom say, voice laced with concern from beside him, “Are you okay? You need to breathe.”

“I’m sorry, just,” Hajime blinks rapidly, his mouth not catching up with his thoughts, “… are you serious?” He asks, holding onto his last shred of sanity, “You _can’t_ be serious. You’re all he has.”

The past two months play like a movie reel in Hajime’s head. Starting from that promposal, that night, holding Oikawa as he cried himself to sleep, those smiles that never reached his eyes, that over the top dramatic facade that Hajime had seen crumble and crack as the days passed. 

_He found my test results that day,_ Yuto had said. _I tried to keep it from him but he got home earlier than I did and found it in my room._

“You’re all he has.” Hajime repeats, and the tears he didn’t shed watching Oikawa go, start to fall against his will. “You _can’t.”_

_He didn’t want to leave anymore, but I couldn’t let him put his future on hold for me. We argued for so long. We ended up compromising. He said he’d go, but he was gonna start working so he could help with the finances as much as possible._

“Hajime,” Yuto says and for someone who was telling him he was sick with cancer, there’s no fear in his eyes at all, “I’m okay. I still look good, don’t I? I’m _okay._ ” 

“I shouldn’t have…” Hajime shudders, “I couldn’t even be there for him. And I let you help so much with all the packing, I kept coming over and making you cook extra—”

“No, Hajime, look at me.” Yuto says sternly, squeezing Hajime’s shoulder, “Look at me.”

Hajime does.

“This is the one thing I need you to take from this, okay?” He says and he’s looking at Hajime like he’ll never say anything more important in his life, so he listens. “The reason Tooru has been trying so hard to get through this is because he knows that I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I’ll do my best, just like he is. He’s been trying his best to be strong. But do you remember, Hajime?”

Hajime shakes his head, swallowing back his sobs.

“That night he hurt his knee? The day he found out? The only one he allowed in was you.” Yuto says, eyes glassy. “Remember that? He let you hold him to sleep. I’m not all he has, Hajime. He has you.”

“He’s _always_ had you. Even at his lowest, even during a time that he felt terrible to the point that he didn’t want anyone to see it, he let you. He said it scared him… the thought that he could lose me made him realize that he could just as easily lose you too. And it scares him that one day I’ll be gone and he won’t even have you and there just won’t be anything left of him anymore.”

And Hajime thinks to himself that that couldn’t be. Because Oikawa was Oikawa. There’s so much of him. He took up so much space that Hajime was so sure that one day, he’d take over the entire world. 

“I think he wanted to go out there and figure out how to live on his own.” Yuto explains. “And while it hurts me to think that that’s the way he feels… I think maybe doing some time apart from me and from you would be good for him. Figure out who he is outside of us. He’s always been larger than life, hasn’t he?”

Hajime laughs wetly. “Yeah.”

“I know that you’ll be off on your own journey, growing up in your own way, but I want to ask you to look after him.” Yuto says, squeezing his hand. “And I’m not saying this as some measly _take care of him when I’m gone_ yadda yadda bullshit—”

(Hajime always loved hearing him swear.)

“I’m saying this because he loves you. _Deeply._ In a way… it’s a lot more special than the way he loves me.” He smiles, “I just ask that even from a distance, you keep each other. And hold each other close.”

Hajime’s mother had been quiet the entire time, letting them talk, but he feels her hand rubbing his back. It grounds him.

“Don’t say that you haven’t been there for him.” Yuto assures. “If there’s one thing you’ve always been able to do, it was that.” 

  
  


It takes a long time for Hajime to stop shaking. He shakes the entire walk home. He shakes even while his mom makes him some sort of fancy tea. He shakes as he tries to drink it, his mom continuously rubbing circles on his back. 

His best friend just left. Uncle Yuto has cancer. What is there to do at this point other than to tremble in your own skin?

“How long have you known?” He asks, keeping his gaze trained on the coffee table in front of them.

His mother exhales. “A few weeks before Tooru found out.”

Hajime feels betrayed, almost. He’d be more upset if he had the energy to be. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me something like that.”

“I was trying to respect Yuto’s wishes, Hajime.” She says, as level-headed as ever, even with something like this. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“I’m not his son, why would it matter if you—”

“But he treats you like one.”

Hajime closes his mouth.

“And you would’ve found it too difficult to keep this from Tooru.” She breathes out a laugh, “You never could keep anything from that boy ever since you were kids.”

Hajime almost scoffs. “Is that right?”

Misaki pauses at that, examining him, looking for an answer to a question she couldn’t possibly know. “What do you mean by that?”

This moment was one of the things that scared Hajime the most once he realized how he felt about Oikawa. How do you tell your mom you have feelings for your childhood best friend? How do you tell her, when he’s a guy? 

“Mom,” He’s not sure how he managed to push his voice out, but he does. “I need to tell you something.”

She hums, scooting closer to him, showing her undivided attention. “What is it?”

“Don’t… tell dad yet.”

She looks surprised at that, but she nods. “I promise.”

Hajime takes a deep breath and remembers that this is his mother who’s shown him nothing but love and that it’s okay for him to believe that she’d love him through this too.

“At prom… Haruka and I broke up.” He says.

“Oh.” His mother blinks, frowning and squeezing Hajime’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Hajime notices she doesn’t ask him why or what happened. He wonders if maybe she knows too. “I… realized something about myself.” He says shakily, licking his cracked lips, “I think maybe I’ve always known, deep down, but never let myself think about it too much ‘cause it scared me.”

He feels her rub her thumb back and forth against the back of his hand and it’s making a lump form in his throat. Oikawa liked to do that.

“Ever since middle school… no, maybe even before that.” He sniffs, “I’d get this weird feeling in my chest whenever I was with Oikawa. It wouldn’t happen all the time back then, just sometimes, like when he’d hold my hand or cuddle too close or kiss my cheek or something. I didn’t understand what it was back then. I’d call it _making room.”_

Surprisingly, all his mother does is smile gently. “Making room?”

He nods. “It’s ‘cause I’d always say that he took up too much space everywhere he went. Especially in my life. So, I’d call it that way ‘cause it was like… like he’d already taken up all the space I had in me and it felt like me making room for more of him, you know?”

She nods quietly, squeezing his hand tighter, encouraging him.

“But as we grew older, I started feeling it more and more… until I couldn’t remember what _not_ feeling it felt like. And it was so scary because I couldn’t understand it or… maybe I did, but didn’t wanna admit it. Because if I did, that’d make it true and if it were true, then the outcome would be… it just felt so _hopeless._ I only dated Haruka to make it go away and I know that’s a terrible thing to do, because she was so great… and it didn’t even _work.”_

He’s crying again. Oh god, he’s crying _again,_ and he hasn't even had lunch yet.

“Hajime,” His mom says his name, soothing him, “I think I know what you’re trying to tell me.”

And Hajime doesn’t know how to call it yet. Was he gay? Maybe, but he couldn’t even be sure. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t attracted to women _at all._ Was he bisexual? Maybe, but he’s never really had feelings for anyone other than one person. He doesn’t know about any of that. 

So instead of grappling to say whatever label he hasn’t decided to stick on his forehead yet, he says the only thing he’s sure of right now. The only thing, it seems, that his heart has ever been sure of, even when his brain couldn’t catch up yet. 

“I have feelings for Oikawa.” He says, voice as low as a whisper, looking up at his mother, lower lip trembling. “Please still love me.”

“Oh, Hajime.” His mom sighs, gathering him into her arms. She doesn’t say anything more. She holds him and lets him cry, gently rocking their bodies from side to side. 

After giving him a few minutes to calm down, she pulls away slightly to wipe his tears with her thumbs. “Can I tell you something?”

Hajime nods, sniffling pitifully. 

“Do you remember when your dad and I first separated?” She asked, pulling him close so they could lean against the couch with Hajime’s head resting on her arm. “You dealt with it better than I could’ve ever imagined but you were still pretty sad.”

“‘Course I was.” Hajime grunts.

“You would never say anything… you would never talk to me about how you felt, even when I’d ask. You’d always put on a show of being fine with everything but I knew you took it hard, in your own way. And Tooru knew too.”

Hajime smiles softly but doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know if you remember but he’d bother you more often those days. He’d get you out of the house to play, bring all his new comic books or toys to you, he’d make all these kinds of excuses to sleep over, saying that he’d watched a scary movie and couldn’t sleep and whatnot, but Yuto and I knew it was his own way of making sure you were okay.”

Hajime’s chest squeezes. That, he didn’t know. 

“And slowly but surely, because of that, you truly started going back to normal.” His mom grins at the memory, running her hand up and down his arm. “The first few weeks after your father left, you’d always accidentally set down three plates on the dinner table… and I remember your face when you’d catch yourself doing it. It broke my damn heart every time so I told you that I could do it, but you refused.” 

“But then after a little while, one afternoon, I caught you setting down three pairs of utensils again. You didn’t catch yourself that time so I had to tell you,” She smiles fondly at the memory, “— and you said, _oh this is for Oikawa.”_

Hajime doesn’t know why he feels like he’s being dismantled right now, but he does.

“I did my best to be strong for you, make sure I didn’t look devastated even if I was, because I knew you were hurting too. But it was you who helped me move forward, Hajime.” She says, “You were the one who made me realize that our home was still a full one. After that, every time you’d accidentally bring out an extra plate, it was always for Tooru.”

Hajime holds his breath. 

“Baby, I don’t think you ever had to make room for him.” She says, caressing his cheek softly, “To you, he’s always just belonged.”

He feels like every single doubt, every question he’s had his whole life, at that moment, were answered. 

“Hajime,” His mom says, adjusting her body so she could properly face him, “I’ve known since you were ten. And I could not, for the life of me, think of anyone better for you to love.”

“Mom.” Hajime croaks, raising his arms to hug her, burying his face in her shoulder. 

He feels like he’s just been emptied, like he’s just used up everything in him, but at least he was home. And he thinks of all the things and all the people he’d never had to make room for, all the places where he’s always felt like he belonged.

 _The park, the volleyball court, Seijoh’s club room, Makki’s dumb puns, Mattsun’s shoulder punches, Kindaichi and Kunimi’s bickering, Yahaba yelling at Kyoutani, his dad’s laughter, Yuto’s lame dad jokes, Oikawa Tooru,_ he thinks, focusing on his mom’s hand in his hair, _and his mother’s arms._

__

“Hajime!” Makki scolds into the phone, “Where the _fuck_ are you? We’re gonna miss the bullet train!” 

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry.” Hajime says hurriedly, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he urgently stuffs his wallet in his back pocket and double checks the contents of his travel bag, “I overslept, I was up for over 48 hours studying for the exam yesterday.”

Makki groans, “Ugh _fine,_ forget the stupid bag check, just meet us at the station.” He says, “But you _better_ have brought decent clothes. We’re going to Oikawa’s birthday party. Do _not_ embarrass me in front of the sexy athletes.”

“Aren’t you taken?” 

“Okay,” He says, “Then, do not embarrass _us_ in front of the sexy athletes. Now hurry up!” He yells, hanging up the phone before Hajime can say anything back.

He sighs and slings his bag over his shoulder, when his shirtless roommate, who’d already gone on a morning run, walks out of the bathroom. “Off to your Osaka boyfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kuroo, I told you he isn’t my boyfriend.” Hajime hisses, struggling to get his shoes on. “Don’t forget to the laundry and please for the love of god, if Kozume-san’s coming over while I’m gone, _please_ don’t have sex on my bed.”

“I don’t know why you would ever think I would be capable of doing something so lewd.” 

“Maybe because I found your dildo on it two weeks ago.” Hajime deadpans.

Kuroo shrugs, turning his attention to his phone. “You don’t know if that was mine.”

“It had a sticker of a _black cat_ on the bottom. You know what,” Hajime raises his hands in defeat. “Do whatever you want but fucking sterilize whatever surface his and your bare asses touch that isn’t in your bed or the bathroom.” 

Kuroo salutes as Hajime grabs his keys. “Aye aye, captain. Have fun with your boyfriend!”

“Not my boyfriend!” Hajime yells before closing the front door. 

It’s been almost an entire year since Hajime moved to Tokyo. College has been… an _experience_. For one, while Makki and Mattsun had decided to get an apartment together, Hajime chose to live in the dorms and considering his luck, of course he ended up with Kuroo Tetsurou. 

(“Oh… weren’t you Nekoma’s captain?” He blinks.

“Oh. Yeah,” Kuroo furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever played you but you look _really_ familiar.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” He introduces himself, “I was the ace in Aoba Johsai.”

“Oh!” Kuroo exclaims, something clicking in his head. “Yeah, I remember you. Daichi talked about you guys a lot. Yeah, you’re uh… you’re Oikawa Tooru’s boyfriend, right?”

Hajime chokes on his spit. His ears feel hot, all of a sudden. 

“What? No.” He shakes his head, “We’re just… childhood friends.”

For some reason, Hajime really isn’t sure why, but after he says that, the man looks like he’s having war flashbacks. And then suddenly, his expression turns serious as he approaches him, rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Yes. I believe you.”

Hajime doesn’t like that tone. “We really are just childhood friends.”

“Yes. I’m sure you are.” He says, nodding and closing his eyes. “I need to call Kenma. And Tsukki. Oh, _god._ Wait ‘til him and Tadashi get a load of this shit.”)

It’s been almost a year since he’s moved to Tokyo and all things considered, things are going okay. College is hell but he’s doing better than he thought he would. His volleyball team has some of the most skilled players he’s ever seen. He still doesn’t think their setter is on the same level as Oikawa, but then again, no one really is. His parents call him often, _too often,_ that it’s gotten kind of annoying. He gets to see Makki and Mattsun fairly often as well so things aren’t all that different from when they were in high school, really. With the exception of… _well._

**Shittykawa**

**sent 9:41 am**

lmk when u guys are in osaka iwa-chan ♡＾▽＾♡

**Iwa-chan!**

**sent 9:42 am**

Got it. See you soon, Trashykawa.

**Shittykawa**

**sent 9:42 am**

(・ω<) u better have gotten me a birthday gift

It’s been almost a year since he’s moved to Tokyo, but already a little over a year since Oikawa moved to Osaka. Both of them have visited home but neither of them have visited each other. Visiting was easier said than done. Visiting would be easier if college wasn’t so busy and if being a professional volleyball player while juggling a part time job didn’t take up so much time. Visiting would be easier if Oikawa wasn’t trying to keep his dad’s cancer a secret and Hajime wasn’t trying to keep the fact that he knew about it a secret. Visiting would be easier if Hajime hadn’t been going to gay bars with his two friends to explore, and if he hadn’t just recently realized he’s _probably_ bisexual but _surely_ in love with his best friend. 

Visiting would be easier if Hajime wasn’t reminded that Yuto was sick every time they Facetimed. It would be easier if he wouldn’t talk to Oikawa right after and he wouldn’t smile so brightly at him, that it’d shine even through a phone screen, making him wonder how he could still look like that, when Hajime knew that he was falling apart at the seams.

 _Life without Oikawa Tooru right next to him was still a life,_ he realized. _But it sure was an empty one._

“Hajime!” Mattsun waves at him from a few feet away. “Fucking took you long enough!”

He makes his way to them and when they settle into the train, it’s only then that he notices the rapid beating in his chest. It’s been over a year since he’s seen Oikawa Tooru. 

In only three hours, five hundred and six kilometers will be back to zero. 

__

Oikawa remembers seeing this tweet about gifted kids who were seen as child prodigies when they were in elementary school ‘cause they did well in English class and could recite the multiplication table of twelve at, like, nine years old or maybe they read a bunch of Nancy Drew books or something, only to grow up to be the family disappointment who flunked out of college. 

That’s how he’d describe where he was at in life right about now.

It’s not exactly the same thing because, well, he _wasn’t_ the family disappointment. God knows he had too much pride in his body to allow himself to become that. But he’d been spending all these years being seen as one of the best players in high school volleyball, best setter, best overall player, leadership skills that rivaled college players, Oikawa Tooru, a captain and setter who’s able to bring out the best in his teammates no matter where you place him. 

That was great and all but now that he’s _actually_ working with professionals, it feels... great because he gets to play with stronger players but it’s also decidedly _not_ great because his pride is crushed each and every day. That’s fine. Whatever. He’s been through worse. This isn’t middle school with Kageyama Tobio, nearly bitchslapping his junior in the face because he was suffering through puberty and low self-esteem. This is simply him being in a completely new city, with a completely new team, with intimidating people who seemed much better than him, without his family or friends, struggling with his knee injury, hoping to fucking _god_ his dad was doing okay, missing his best friend he’s been secretly in love with since he was seven like fucking hell and wishing he was here to hold his hand or something, and he was fine.Really.

(“Oi, Shittykawa. How’s training over there? You getting humbled? Wow, you look like shit through the screen.” “You _wish._ They can all bow down to my skills, absolutely no one is on my level.” “Sure.”)

(“Trashykawa, are you doing alright? You better be fucking eating right.” “Iwa-chan~ Are you my mom?” “Fuck you.”)

(“I watched your last game. You looked so dumb.” “Shut up, I won! You have to say you’re proud of me!” “I’m proud of you.” “Now, was that so hard?”) 

He was _totally_ fine with it, until he wasn’t fine with it. 

“Oikawa?” He hears a voice call out and _oh,_ speaking of people he'd wanted to bitchslap, “Are you okay?”

He really needed to stop spacing out in the middle of working out because one of these days, he was pretty sure he was gonna accidentally drop 20 kilogram weights on himself. That’d be a way to go. 

“I’m _fine._ And just so you know, just because I’m working out with you doesn’t mean I like you, okay?” Oikawa huffs, “You’re still my rival who I _will_ destroy and I’m only here with you because you’re the only person I know around here.”

“That’s nice. Do your best.” Ushijima deadpans. “Do you wanna go have lunch with me?”

“You’re paying.” 

Ushijima makes a face but relents. “Sure. Take it as your advanced birthday treat.”

  
  


**Iwa-chan!**

**sent 11:03 am**

Probably be there around 1PM. 

**Shittykawa**

**sent 12:01 pm**

was workin out with ushiwaka sorry but see u then (•ө•)♡

  
  


“You haven’t seen him in a while now, am I correct?” Ushijima points out, “Iwaizumi-san, I mean.”

Oikawa makes a face. “What’s it to you?”

Ushijima brings out his phone and looks at his wallpaper. It's a picture of him and that crazy middle blocker who reminded him of Ronald Mcdonald, a little bit. “Tendou and I are in a long-distance relationship so I understand how hard it can be.”

“Iwa-chan and I aren’t in a relationship.” Oikawa retorts.

Ushijima blinks. “Oh, I guess I have heard that you’re still saying that... Okay.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Oikawa says defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

He shakes his head. “Let’s go get a meal. You shouldn’t show up later looking like you haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

 _He hasn’t,_ Oikawa realizes. And he guesses he really does have to admit, he’s glad he has at least one familiar face. Because the longer this goes on, the more he feels like he’s falling apart at the seams, when the only two people who’d always ever been around to catch him weren’t even anywhere near.

(“Tooru, you really are doing okay there… right?” “‘Course I am.”)

The whole point of building a life here was supposed to be some showcase of his independence. Prove to his dad he could _help_ and he never had to hide his sickness from him in the fucking first place. Prove to his old rivals that he can beat them. Prove to himself that he doesn’t need his straight best friend to love him back. 

He wanted to see his friends and his father again with his head held high, saying, _“Here I am!”_ There was so much he wanted to do. So much he came here to be.

All he’s been so far, is terrified. Just really fucking terrified every single day that he hasn’t done anything at all.

  
  


__

“Jesus christ,” Makki groans as they step out of the bullet train after about three hours of travel time. “What was with those seats? My butt has never been so sore in my life.”

“Now, that’s just a straight up lie.” 

“Jesus,” Hajime winces, “Can you guys stop? Seriously? We just got here. Look, that old lady that just passed by was judging us so hard.”

“Did you text Oikawa that we’re here?” Mattsun asks, craning his neck to scan the crowd.

“Well. He said he was here.” Hajime scoffs.

Makki rolls his eyes. “If he says he’s getting ready, he just woke up. If he says he’s on his way, he’s getting ready. If he says he’s here, that means he’s—”

“— on his way.” Hajime and Mattsun say at the same time.

“Should we just look for somewhere to wait?” Mattsun asks, already starting to think of a place to eat.

“Oh.” Makki interrupts, making a surprised noise, and motions to a pillar just a few feet away from them. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that him?”

The second Hajime turns and sees him, he feels his stomach drop to his feet. For lots of reasons. Because it’s the first time he’s seen in best friend in the flesh for over a year, because the way his heart is clenching is telling him that distance really does make the heart grow fonder, he thought that was a fucking myth, because five hundred and six kilometers is finally back to zero, and because _god,_ he looked fucking terrible but so beautiful at the same time. 

Mattsun nudges him forward. “We’re both gonna stay behind and give you two a moment.” He whispers, “Go.”

Hajime doesn’t even have it in him to argue with them. He finds himself taking one step forward, then another, another, until he’s running, practically pushing past the crowd.

“Oi! Shittykawa!” He yells, ignoring all the heads that turn.

At the familiar nickname, Oikawa’s head perks up, eyes widening, and despite the way his face couldn’t hide how exhausted he’s been, the brightest smile materializes on his lips as he jumps into a sprint, running straight into Hajime who was prepared to catch him, like he always is.

People are staring, some even go as far as walking a little slower as they pass by them, but they don’t care. 

Hajime’s wraps arms around his waist, clinging on tightly, practically lifting him in the air.

“Hi.” He says against Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Hi.” Oikawa returns, voice breathy and unsteady.

“Are you crying already?” Hajime laughs, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You fucking baby.”

(He says it like he isn’t holding back tears but nobody needs to know that.)

At the moment, Oikawa doesn’t even seem to have it in him to put up his usual facade. He only holds onto him tighter, and with a voice so raw and unguarded says, 

_“Fuck._ I missed you so fucking much.” He sniffs, burying his face into Hajime’s neck, “You have no fucking idea. I missed you so much.”

Hajime realizes that Oikawa’s trembling in his arms and Hajime feels a part of him crack, knowing how much he must’ve been going through, how much he’d been trying to handle all on his own. 

He doesn’t need to say anything back. Oikawa knows. He pulls back just slightly, keeping an arm around Oikawa as he runs a hand through the boy’s hair and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. The boy closes his eyes and makes a small, fragile noise and Hajime almost _weeps._

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, and looks him in the eye so Oikawa knows he’s _really_ asking.

Oikawa only exhales and it sounds like a weight off his shoulders, as he shuffles even closer, pressing his forehead against Hajime’s lips as if asking for another kiss, so he gives it to him.

“Yeah.” Oikawa answers softly. “I am now.”

Hajime holds back the urge to say _I’m in love with you,_ and instead says, “I hate to say this, but I missed you too. A fucking lot.”

Oikawa chuckles wetly. “I knew you secretly loved me, Iwa-chan.” 

Hajime thinks, _you have no fucking idea._

People are still staring, walking by in slow motion as if trying to figure out if they’re a gay couple or long lost brothers or something, but neither of them care. All they know is that they’ve been five hundred six kilometers too far and right now, finally, they were back to zero.

(“Damn it, Mattsun, keep the camera steady.” “I _can’t._ There are too many people and I’m crying, damn you, why don’t you do it?!” “I can’t fucking see through my tears, shut up!”)

__

“Iwa-chan, baby, I love you so much. Missed you everyday.” Oikawa slurs, leaning heavily against him. “My sun, my moon, and all my shitty stars,”

“Damn it, Oikawa, this is _your_ birthday party,” Hajime hisses, pointedly _not_ blushing, trying to help him stay upright, “You can’t be the first one down!”

Makki and Mattsun snicker next to them, hiding their smirks in their drinks. Hajime would tell them off for laughing if he was a little more sober and if his friends didn’t look two drinks away from pulling another Skylab Hurricane. (It’s a long story.)

Ushijima raises his eyebrows and if Hajime didn’t know any better, he’d think he was judging them. “He told me you guys weren’t dating.”

“We _aren’t.”_ Hajime makes his point by pushing his palm against Oikawa’s cheek as the boy starts to try and kiss him. “He’s just… drunk, I guess.”

Ushijima nods. “Yes. He doesn’t have a strong tolerance for alcohol. Strange for someone of his stature.”

“I _know_ that.” Hajime grunts. 

Hajime did not, in fact, know that.

He did not know that because he’s never gone drinking with Oikawa before and he doesn’t know why he’s being so defensive that fucking _Ushiwaka_ had beat him to it. 

“Really?” Ushijima looks genuinely confused. “Huh. He told me he had his first beer with me.”

Oh, _fuck this guy._

“Yeah, well…” He flails, now protectively securing Oikawa to his side instead of pushing him away, “Whatever.”

Oikawa looks barely conscious at this point, but he still manages to grin at that, and Hajime wonders how he still has it in him to be cocky in this pathetic state. 

“Iwa-chan~” He coos, reaching out to pinch his cheek, “There’s no need to be jealous. You know you have my _whoooooole_ heart!”

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Ushijima asks. 

“Yup. Pretty sure.” Hajime says and tries not to make it sound like a lament, “Pretty fucking sure.”

This wasn’t exactly the birthday party Hajime had in mind. Oikawa’s actual birthday was tomorrow and the plan was to stay in this restaurant bar until midnight so everyone can greet him together and then get stupid drunk afterwards. 

Currently, it is 11:45 PM and Oikawa Tooru is saying, “Iwa-chan. You are so pretty, you know that? So, so pretty. Hedgehog hair. Big butt. Hamburger buns. Flower face.”

 _“Fuck.”_ Makki wheezes trying his best to hold his phone steady as he films, “He said hamburger buns and flower face.”

Oikawa didn’t invite too many people. Hajime thinks he can count only a little over twenty. But there’s something that he notices about them, other than the fact that most of them were obviously athletes, and that’s the fact that…

“Wow.” He says, scanning the long table, “Oikawa has a lot of… gay friends? LGBT friends?” He turns to Mattsun, “Is it offensive to say it like that?”

“Hajime, _you’re_ the LGBT friends.” Makki points out.

Oh my fucking god. Oh god. Oh my god. 

Mattsun’s eyes widen, slapping his boyfriend’s arm. _“Makki!_ What the _fuck.”_

 _“What?”_ Oikawa says, sobering almost instantly, sitting up so fast that it jostles Hajime. “What did you say?”

Oh god. This is happening.

Only then does Makki realize the gravity of what he’d done, freezing in place, and slowly setting his beer down. If Hajime looked hard enough, he could almost see how fast his brain was working, to find a way to bullshit his way out of it. 

_“Oh._ Uh. I actually meant…. Don’t you know what that stands for? LGBT is _actually,_ proven by science by the way, short for Lesbians, Gays, and the Big Tiddied.”

Ushijima looks down at his chest.

“What the fuck.” Mattsun says under his breath, closing his eyes. He almost looks like he’s praying. Understandable.

But Oikawa isn’t looking at Makki, Mattsun or Ushijima. He’s looking at Hajime. “What did he just say?”

Hajime’s hand tightens painfully around his beer bottle. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Deny it? Lie? Hasn’t he been waiting for the right moment and right time to tell him? Wasn’t this finally it, now that he’s being asked? If he could hide it from him forever, maybe he would’ve. But he couldn’t do that.

Not with Oikawa.

He takes a deep breath and licks his lips. He knows he’s probably shaking but fuck it. Fuck it all. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says his name and his voice is unsteady and scared for a reason that Hajime doesn’t understand. “Are you…”

“I don’t know what I am.” Hajime brings himself to say, much to his own surprise that his voice could still work, “I just know that I’m not... straight.”

“He didn’t know?” Hajime hears Ushijima ask their friends in the background, “Why would he be scared to come out to _Oikawa?_ He’s known he was gay since he was five.”

_What._

“IT’S MIDNIGHT!” Someone from the end of the table screams, “Happy birthday, Oikawa!”

A cake with sparkling candles is brought out, everyone starts singing, people are raising their glasses to him, but neither Hajime nor Oikawa can see or hear any of it. 

Right now, all they can do is look at each other and wonder, _who the hell are you?_

  
  


Since this is all their fault, Makki, Mattsun, and even Ushijima create a distraction as Hajime and Oikawa are directed to _‘hash things out’_ out in the cold. 

At this point, the grand reveal had sobered the both of them up, considerably. They lean against the wall, staring straight ahead, not sure where to start and who gets interrogation rights first. Hajime decides it should be him. 

Because, really? Fucking _really?_

“Since you were _five?”_ Hajime decides to go with as an opening, “Are you fucking kidding me, Oikawa? Who else knew while I was left in the fucking dark for… twelve years now, apparently?”

“Okay, before that, how about _you,_ huh?” He asks back, “When the hell did you know and why the _fuck_ didn’t I hear shit about it?”

“Fuckin’ high school!” Hajime exclaims, facing Oikawa, “And I barely even figured it out then! I only really knew when I started going to gay bars with the two idiots the past year and I had _good reason_ to keep this from you, what’s _your_ excuse?”

“Don’t hit me with that ‘ _you had good reason’_ bullshit, _I_ was the one who had good reason to hide this from you, and believe me, it wasn’t fucking easy.” Oikawa hisses, going all up in Hajime’s face, “You have no _idea_ how hard it was to hide this from you.”

Hajime clenches his jaw. Breathes in, and then out. “Who else knew, Oikawa? Who else knew before me, if _apparently,_ Ushijima fucking Wakatoshi ranks higher than me in the friendship scale now!”

“I didn’t tell him shit! He just assumed immediately and I didn’t deny it!” Oikawa yells defensively, “And… the team knew, I guess… Fuckin’ Makki, Mattsun, Yahaba, Kindaichi, Kunimi—”

“FUCK!” Hajime yells, crouching down, head in his hands. “FUCK! And no one bothered to _tell_ me?!”

“I asked them not to.” Oikawa says firmly, “I _begged_ them not to, so don’t be mad at them.”

“I’m not, I’m fucking mad at _you!”_ Hajime exclaims, standing back up, “How fucking much don’t I know about you? God, honestly, who _are_ you sometimes?”

“You don’t fucking get to be mad at me.” Oikawa says, gritting his teeth, tearing up the way he does when he’s truly upset, “You hid this, just like I did. You were scared to tell me, just like I was scared to tell you. _Why?”_

Hajime’s so furious that he knows he’s breathing through his nose like a fucking bull but doesn’t give a shit. “You hid it from me first. So, you tell me. What reason was so goddamn important that you would hide this from me since we fucking _met?_ Tell me, what’s a good enough reason for you to tell fucking… _everyone else,_ apparently, apart from me? Just lay it all out to me right now, and fucking tell me—”

He’s abruptly cut off by a hand clutching onto the front of his shirt and he almost yells at Oikawa for making creases when he spent so long trying to iron it for his stupid birthday party, when suddenly he’s being pulled towards him and he’s being… kissed.

Huh. He’s being _kissed._

Oikawa’s eyes are shut tightly, his entire body trembling, even his lips, which Hajime could feel against his own.

Hajime wants to move, do something, say something, kiss back, but he’s frozen in place, eyes wide open, and hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

The kiss doesn’t last very long. When Oikawa notices that Hajime isn’t breathing, he slowly pulls away, hand shakily letting go of the front of his shirt. 

And Oikawa’s crying. Why is he crying? Why does he look like he’s just ruined his entire life?

“Did _that_ tell you enough?” Oikawa whispers and he sounds more scared now than angry.

 _That’s funny,_ Hajime thinks. _The issue here has always been that it’s never enough._

“No,” He exhales, leaning forward to capture his lips again, properly this time. “—tell me some more.”

Oikawa gasps, hands shooting out to hold onto Hajime’s shoulders, and he looks like he doesn’t know what’s happening but eventually, he melts into it, eyes closing, tears falling down his cheeks as he does. 

Hajime doesn’t realize he’s crying too, until Oikawa wipes his tears with his thumb, and they’re breathing hotly into each other’s mouths. 

After a few seconds, Oikawa starts to pull away again and Hajime whines.

“More,” Hajime damn near begs, pulling him closer, wanting to kiss him until their mouths turn numb, until his legs feel like jelly, until he makes Oikawa’s legs feel like jelly. _“More.”_

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says against his lips and Hajime had _never_ heard his name sound like that coming out of his mouth. “What… do you want?” 

_What does he want,_ he wonders. Maybe, if his brain were working right now he’d be able to answer that. 

“I don’t know.” Hajime says honestly and a little hysterically, pressing their foreheads together, “Shit, I don’t fucking know. I just know I want more.”

And Oikawa looks terrified. Terrified down to the bone but he still leans forward and kisses him again. 

“Okay,” He says, nodding, “I can work with _more. More_ is all I need.” 

Hajime doesn’t say anything to that, just lowers his head to kiss his jaw, going lower and lower, until he’s mouthing at Oikawa’s neck. Hajime thought he’d heard every Oikawa Tooru noise there was to hear. 

But he’d never heard him moan until now.

 _“Fuck,”_ Oikawa swears through gritted teeth, hands tightening around Hajime’s shoulders, “Iwa-chan, we’re in public, and you’re making me _hard.”_

Hajime pauses. “Are you saying you’d let me do even more if we weren’t in public?” 

“No, I’m saying if you keep going, I might let you do even more _despite_ the fact that we’re in public.” He says, looking pained as Hajime sticks a leg between his thighs, as if trying to keep himself from grinding down. _“Fuck. Iwa-chan,”_ He hisses. 

Hajime’s a virgin. He doesn’t know where the fuck this bout of confidence is coming from. But by _god,_ was Oikawa the hottest fucking thing he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Are you okay with abandoning your own birthday party?” Hajime asks, both hands slithering down into Oikawa’s ass pockets. He squeezes purposefully, in an attempt to convince Oikawa to abandon his own birthday party.

Oikawa lets out a high-pitched keen, his head falling down to lean on Hajime’s shoulder. “I don’t _care_ about my goddamn party right now,” He says, giving in and grinding against Hajime’s thigh, the moan that comes out of him laced with relief, “Get me out of these fucking jeans before I poke a hole through them.”

 _Fuck._ Mother of god. 

Hajime grabs him by the wrist. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

(“Mattsun. Did you check on them out there? Are they killing each other?” “I peeked out the door and saw them switching spit.” “Good for them.”) 

__

Oikawa’s apartment is only two minutes away from the bar which is convenient because Hajime was pretty sure that if they’d taken a car or a train, neither of them would’ve made it through without scarring anyone’s eyes for life. Except the problem is that since they had to walk, it gave them more time to think about what the fuck they’d just done and what they were about to do and that’s how these things always get messed up in the end. Thinking too much. Hajime wishes he could just stop thinking. 

Fuck a thought. 

He knows it’s not just him, though. He can see the wheels turning nonstop in Oikawa’s head and by the time they actually get to his place and close the door, the heat of the moment has died down and they’re just standing there, unsure how to proceed. Just a few minutes ago, all Hajime cared about was getting out of their clothes. 

But now, all he could think about was the fact that he and his _childhood best friend_ came here to have sex. Together. The both of them. Having _sex._

Osaka sure is wild.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Oikawa asks, breaking the silence. 

“Have them for free.” Hajime says, “They’re fucking scaring me right now.” 

Oikawa chuckles at that, closing the small distance between them. He takes both of Hajime’s hands in his, rubs them with his thumbs in that comforting way he always does. It gives him room to breathe. 

“Why’re you scared?” Oikawa asks, gentle as ever. “Are you not sure about this?”

Hajime shakes his head. 

“I know what I want right now.” He answers, “It’s whatever’s gonna come after that I’m scared of.”

They allow themselves to be quiet for a little while, Hajime’s back pressed against Oikawa’s front door, foreheads pressed together, hands intertwined. 

“Me too.” Oikawa whispers. 

It’s a really intimate moment, but Hajime also feels something asking for attention down there, and is reminded of the fact that they’re both still hard. 

“Is it a thing to be really scared and really horny at the same time?” Hajime asks.

“Horny fear.” Oikawa answers.

“This is that.”

Oikawa raises one of his hands to caress Hajime’s cheek. He leans into it instinctively. 

“So what are we gonna do?” He asks, “Do you wanna deal with the fear part first or the horny part first?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that Oikawa’s boner is _right there,_ maybe it’s the fact that he’s wanted this too much for too long to let the fear take over him first, because before he can even think about it, he says, 

“Horny part.” He nods decidedly, “Don’t they always say to jerk off first before making big decisions?”

“Okay. Thank _god.”_ Oikawa says, finally pressing their lips together again, this time with purpose. This time, obviously giving and waiting for the _more_ that Hajime said he wanted.

Hajime finds himself groaning into Oikawa’s mouth when he hears a zipper go down. 

“You move fast, huh?” Hajime huffs, as the boy lowers his pants enough to give his crotch some breathing room.

“These jeans are _skinny,_ Iwa-chan.” Oikawa complains, “Plus, I’m in—”

Hajime lowers his hand to bring Oikawa some relief while busying himself with his lips, when he feels lacey material under his fingertips. 

He pulls away slightly with a gasp. “Wait,”

“Don’t judge.” Oikawa says, “It’s my birthday and I wanted to… _you know.”_

“No, I _don’t_ know.” Hajime exhales shakily, admiring the view with both his hands and his eyes. They were maroon lace panties, the tip of Oikawa’s cock peeking out from the top. 

Hajime thinks he could cum untouched from this alone, if Oikawa would let him stare at it for long enough. “Oikawa. Who the hell were you wearing this for?”

“No one.” Oikawa says, blushing to his ears. “It’s my birthday so I wanted to… _fuck,_ don’t make fun of me okay, I was planning this whole self-care night. I barely have time to jerk off these days. I wanted to make a special night out of it, that’s all.”

Hajime’s always known this, but he’s reminded once again of how Oikawa Tooru is gonna be the death of him one day.

“How often do you usually do that?” Hajime asks, flattening his palm against Oikawa’s bulge, making the boy jerk forward involuntarily. “Touch yourself?”

“A lot.” Oikawa says breathily, thrusting his cock into Hajime’s hand, “I always think about you. _”_

Hajime doesn’t even know if it’s true, but right now he doesn’t care. He thinks he’ll believe anything Oikawa says if he says it like that. 

“Perv.” Hajime jokes to hide his blush, continuing to massage Oikawa’s groin but raising his free hand to cup his jaw. 

And he’s a sight to behold, grinding needily into Hajime’s hand, mouth half open and exhaling hot breaths onto his face. 

“I’ve never done this before.” Hajime confesses.

“I know.” Oikawa answers, smiling even while he’s panting, “Me too. We’ll figure it out together. Just like with everything else, right? Like volleyball. Except with more balls involved.”

“And hopefully less spiking involved too.”

“Lots of receiving though!”

And for all the times that Hajime had cursed the universe for making him fall in love with his best friend, right now he was just _really_ fucking grateful. 

By the time they make it to the bedroom, giggling and stumbling, leaving a trail of clothes as they go, they’re almost completely naked when they drop onto the mattress. Save for Hajime’s boxers and Oikawa’s panties because, seriously, _holy hell._

“Tell me what you want.” Hajime says, caressing Oikawa’s sides, pressing kisses down his body, leaving him trembling. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

“I just want you, Iwa-chan.” He says with all the adoration in the world, closing his legs around Hajime’s waist, “Just you. Always.”

Everything is really too much right now. He can already feel the future gay panic his future self is gonna have to deal with.

“Hajime.” He says, stroking Oikawa’s cheek with his thumb.

“Actually, I’m Oikawa.”

“No, you idiot.” Hajime bites back, “Call me Hajime.”

Oikawa blinks at him, his shocked expression slowly turning warm. “Okay then. _Hajime.”_

“Mmm,” He says, burying his face in Oikawa’s neck to hide his smile, “Better.”

“Call me Tooru, then.” 

“No.”

“Fine, then you can just imagine you’re having sex with my dad.” Oikawa says. 

“Tooru?”

“Yes?” 

“If you ever say something like that again, I am going to bite your dick off.”

“Kinky.” Oikawa grins, “Get on with it and put your fingers in me, Hajime.”

Hajime learns that sex with your best friend is simultaneously the best and worst thing ever. The best because of how easy communication is between two people who’ve been comfortable with each other their whole lives.

 _“Fuck,_ yeah… can you crook your fingers a little? Yeah, a little mo— oh _fuck,_ right there, _god_ keep going, wait, not _too_ hard, Hajime— _ooooh,_ AH.”

Hajime flinches, stilling instantly. “Bad ah or good ah?”

And it’s the worst because,

Oikawa purses his lips. “Ooh Ahh… by TWICE.”

“Tooru, I have my fucking _fingers_ in your _asshole_ right now and you’re making k-pop jokes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Oikawa laughs, “I’m sorry, please keep going, it’s all Yahaba’s fault for introducing me to them. He said he’s introducing Kyouken-chan to them too.”

“We are _not_ talking about our juniors while…” Hajime drifts off, “Wait, are they together now?”

“Yeah, they are. I’m ready now by the way,” Oikawa hisses slightly, as Hajime slides his fingers out, “I don’t have any condoms so unless you want us to use cellophane—“

“Your skill in ruining the mood is unrivaled.” Hajime says, covering his dick with lube, “I feel like I’m only hard through willpower alone now. When did they get together?”

“That’s just not true.” Oikawa gasps, as Hajime rubs the head of his cock against his hole. “ _Fuck, haaah—_ you also think I’m sexy, regardless. And, _shit,_ ” he sucks in a breath, “— they started dating a few months ago.”

“Can we stop talking about them now?” 

“Yes, please.” Oikawa moans as Hajime finally bottoms out and they moan simultaneously.

“Jesus _shit,”_ Oikawa gasps, “God, this is _so_ much better than my vibrating dildo.”

“Oh, _god.”_ Hajime groans, hiding his face in Oikawa’s neck. “I don’t know if I’m gonna last.”

“I probably waited my whole life for something that’ll only last thirty seconds but let’s make it count.” 

“Give me some fucking— credit,” Hajime grits his teeth as he thrusts, “I’ll probably last at least two minutes.”

“I was talking about me— _god, yes.”_ Oikawa keens, back arching and toes curling behind Hajime’s waist.

“Tooru,” Hajime whispers, lifting his head to press their foreheads together, “If I don’t last, don’t— don’t fucking laugh, and remember… that I’m a virgin who’s wanted to— _shit,_ have sex with you since you first discovered skinny jeans.”

Oikawa holds onto the pillowcase, squeezing his eyes closed, “ _Please_ shut up when I’m forty seconds away from seeing God himself.”

Hajime wonders if this was how sex worked for everyone or if it’s just them. All he knows right now, is that he wouldn’t have asked for this to have gone any way else.

“Tooru,” He grits out, “Stop making that fucking face or I’m gonna explode.”

 _“_ I can’t fucking help how I look when I’m gonna come— _Hajime,_ ” Oikawa gasps urgently, “Touch me. Fucking _touch me.”_

When Hajime wraps a hand around his leaking cock and starts stroking in earnest, Oikawa’s eyes roll into the back of his head, “Fuck yes— _fuck yes,_ like that.”

It really doesn’t take too long after that and at this point, Hajime considers it an achievement in and of itself that they’d both managed to last over two minutes. 

“I’m close.” He groans, his thrusts getting faster and shallower, “Fuck, Tooru—“

_“Hajime.”_

He looks into Oikawa’s sex drunk eyes, mouth hanging open with a little drool dripping down the side of it, and he looks like a fucking _dream._ “Tooru.”

Oikawa tightens around him. _“I love you.”_

_Oh god. “Fuck—“_

It’s with those words that Hajime stills and comes long and hard inside Oikawa, a string of swear words spilling out of his mouth. He blacks out a little, honestly.

Not even a few seconds later, he feels Oikawa tighten even more around his cock, as he spills all over his own torso and Hajime’s fist. His whole body shakes, one hand clutching onto the sheets, the other with a tight grip around Hajime’s arm.

Hajime keeps thrusting shallowly, riding out both their orgasms, until he can barely move.

He exhales loudly, practically collapsing on top of Oikawa once it’s over. They give themselves a moment to recover, trying to remember how to breathe again, waiting for their souls to return to their bodies. 

Once they slightly come down from their sex high, Hajime silently lifts himself up with shaky arms, pulling out with a groan, and rolls onto the space beside Oikawa tiredly.

A few minutes pass.

It’s only then that the gravity of their situation sinks in. 

“Shit.” Hajime says because it’s all he can really say.

Oikawa can’t even seem to open his eyes. “Good _shit_ or _bad shit?”_

“I don’t really know.” Hajime says, laughing humorlessly. “Do you?”

“That depends.” He answers.

“On what?”

“On you.” 

Hajime bites his lip, turning his head to look at his best friend. _Best friend._ That’s what he was, right? Still? “What do you mean?”

Oikawa stays silent, keeping his eyes closed, unmoving. Hajime knows he’s awake, though. 

“Tooru,” He says, tiredly reaching out and caressing his cheek with his knuckles, “What are we doing right now?”

He sends him a weak smile. “You still don’t know?”

Hajime pulls his hand away, but scoots closer. “That depends.”

Oikawa pauses, then chuckles under his breath. “On what?”

“On what you want.”

And something about that seems to be funny. Something about that seems to be really fucking hilarious because Oikawa starts laughing. He keeps his eyes closed, barely moves, and it’s quiet but he laughs for a while, enough for him to be slightly out of breath by the time he calms down.

Hajime doesn’t know what’s so damn funny.

“It’s never been about what I wanted, Iwa-chan.” He says, voice thin and weary. “I’ve always known what I’ve wanted. Always.”

Hajime wonders why he sounds so bitter.

“I wanted…” Oikawa sighs, “I wanted to _win_. And keep winning.” 

“And I wanted my dad to be healthy.” He continues, voice wavering, “I wanted my dad to be fuckin’ _healthy_ and live past a hundred. Live past _forever.”_

He takes a deep breath and so does Hajime.

“And I…” His voice cracks so he pauses, breathes out slowly, and smiles like he’s waving the white flag,

“I just really wanted to slow dance with you in that stupid prom.”

Hajime’s heart and soul fall altogether.

Oikawa’s head tilts weakly to the side, like it was taking everything in him to even stay awake. His last words before succumbing to sleep only come out as a weak murmur but to Hajime, it sounds like a pained scream.

“It was never… about what I wanted.”

__

_Iwa-chan~_

_Sorry I had to leave so early, forgot I have practice~_

_There’s cereal in the cupboard if you get hungry and_

_I’ll try to make it in time before u guys have to catch the train!_

_\- Prettykawa ⁽˙³˙⁾_

Oikawa doesn’t have any practice today and Hajime knows that because Ushiwaka had told him the night before. The cereal in the cupboard is expired and there isn’t much other than that in the kitchen, so Hajime wonders what the fuck Oikawa had been eating. And there’s no way he’d be able to catch them before they have to leave, because they had to leave in about two hours and Oikawa knew that too. He feels sticky and gross and doesn’t even have new clothes to change into because all his things are in the airbnb they’d booked. He groans.

He just had drunk sex with his childhood best friend and woke up in an empty bed. Look at that. It’s his worst nightmare come to life. Except it’s even worse, because at least in Hajime’s nightmares, they wake up the next morning and have the most awkward, painful conversation in the world where they agree that it’s a one time thing and that they’d never do it again because they’re better off friends. 

Instead, he gets an empty apartment. Hajime would rather go through that awkward, painful conversation rather than not have one at all. Was he supposed to just go back to Tokyo with _this_ hanging over his head? Go back to regular programming without knowing where the fuck they even stand now? Really?

**Makki**

**sent 2:43 am**

you’re probably getting it on right now and I want to hear every single detail do you understand me. Every single one.

**Hajime**

**sent 10:07 am**

Yeah and I woke up to an empty bed and apartment

**Makki**

**sent 10:08 am**

That fucking idiot. That stupid fucking idiot

I’m so sorry he’s so stupid. My theory is that u two take turns holding the braincell

Just get ur ass over here, he’s being dumb. 

Before u leave, take a dump in his bathroom and dont flush it. That’ll teach him

**Hajime**

**sent 10:09 am**

No it won’t

**Makki**

**sent 10:10 am**

Ur right it won’t. Do it anyway

Half an hour later, Hajime is standing in the doorway to their airbnb, met with Makki and Mattsun’s sympathetic faces. And matching hickeys on their necks. 

“Did you do it?” Makki asks.

“No.” Hajime scoffs, walking in, “But I guess I did take a piss without wiping his toilet seat.”

“Good man.” Mattsun says, patting him on the back.

  
  


**Iwa-chan!**

**sent 11:43 am**

We’re at the station already, just so you know.

See you whenever I guess, Trashykawa.

Take care of yourself. And clean your fucking apartment.

  
  


The quiet in the train lasts a long while before Hajime decides to break it. 

“How long?” He asks, staring out the window instead of at his two friends, “How long have you known that Oikawa’s gay?”

“He only told us senior year.” Mattsun answers, “But I guess we all felt it for a long time before then.”

Hajime closes his eyes, breathes, wonders how he could’ve had the title of best friend when he was apparently the only one left completely in the dark. “Did he ever tell you how long he’s had feelings for me?”

“He never really talked about it that much. All we know is that it’s been a long time. Since you guys were kids.”

“Fucking hell.” Hajime sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Then, I don’t fucking get it.”

“Get what?” Makki asks.

“I mean, _why_ would he run away like that if he’s had feelings for me for that long?” Hajime demands, turning to his two friends. “Why wouldn’t he want to talk about it when he’s been waiting for that fucking long? You mean to tell me he’s probably liked me for over a decade and he didn’t even ask me, _‘Hey, what does this mean for us now?’_ ”

Mattsun stares at him for a while, as if examining him. “Would you have known what you were going to say if he did?”

Hajime blinks, slightly dumbfounded. He turns back to the window. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the stupid question, Hajime.”

“I don’t fucking know.” He spits out, sinking into his seat.

He’s met with silence and when he checks to see their expressions, he finds that he doesn’t like them one bit.

“There’s your answer then.” Makki points out. “Why he ran.”

Hajime furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t want to hear you say _‘I don’t know’_ to the one thing he’s always known.” Makki says. “He wouldn’t have survived that.”

Hajime finds he has nothing to say to that. He bites his tongue.

Mattsun reaches out, knocking him on the knee comfortingly. 

“Maybe try and figure out what your answer would be first, before demanding him to ask the question.” He says, “Oikawa’s an idiot, but it’s just because he’s scared too.”

When Oikawa drags himself back to his apartment, it’s clean. The last time it’d been this clean was when he first moved in. His clothes are folded neatly, his bed is made, and it smells like the air freshener he barely uses. He even finds his fridge and cupboards stocked. It’s when he sees the paper bag of milk bread and banana milk sitting on his dinner table that he bursts into tears.

_I couldn’t afford to get you a good birthday gift so just take this._

_Happy birthday, Shittykawa. Don’t forget to eat._

_\- Iwa-chan_

**Shittykawa**

**sent 1:03 pm**

I’m sorry, Iwa-chan

Are we okay?

We’re okay right?

**Iwa-chan!**

**sent 1:05 pm**

We’re us, remember?

Don’t be sorry. 

‘Cause I’m not. 

**Shittykawa**

**sent 1:05 pm**

We’re us. We’ll talk soon

**Iwa-chan!**

**sent 1:06 pm**

We’ll talk soon.

__

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says urgently over the phone screen, “You’ll never believe it. You know what I learned today?”

“A new type of service?”

“Close but no,” He answers, setting his phone down somewhere, “Actually, I learned the choreography to that new Blackpink song. Do you wanna see?”

“How was that close?” Hajime chuckles, “Wait, you’re… Oikawa, are you wearing _booty shorts?_ Dear fucking _God.”_

It’s been two months since what Hajime now just refers to as _The Night._ Things were awkward for all of three weeks until they’d just decided, _fuck this._ (“Iwa-chan?” “Yeah?” “This is awkward, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” “Can we stop doing this?” “... Yeah.”)

Things were back to normal, sort of, in a way. Save for the fact that they’ve never brought up the elephant in the room and the fact that said elephant was getting hard over fucking _booty shorts._

“You… seriously,” Hajime groans, rubbing his face with both hands, “— do you have any fucking idea what you do to me, sometimes?”

Oikawa at least has the decency to look a little guilty. 

It’s been two months and Hajime has had the time to unpack the roots of his Gay Panic™. He made a list and everything. With bullet points. 

**WHY HAJIME IS ~~SO~~** ~~**ANAL ABT BEING W OIKAWA** ~~

**SCARED OF BEING WITH OIKAWA fuck you makki**

  * He’s my childhood best friend. The most constant thing in my life other than my actual family. If I lose him, my life is pretty much over. ~~ur so fucking dramatic~~
  * Didn’t even realize I could be into guys until my senior year. That was wild. Also, the fact that I don’t even know what label exactly fits me? Gay? Bisexual? Pansexual? There’s so many. I’m still trying to get the hang of it. Is it, like, one sexuality for every color of the rainbow?
  * I didn’t even realize I had this weird emotional baggage of being scared of commitment ‘cause my parents got divorced and my mom used to say dad took up too much space and never gave her peace and quiet and I’m scared one day, if we do take the risk and get together, that’s how Oikawa and I are gonna end too. ~~Christ hajime thats kinda dark~~
  * He’s in Osaka, I’m in Tokyo. He’s a professional volleyball player and I’m just a regular college student. How the hell is that gonna work? Long distance barely ever works.
  * I’m just worried about his dad and how he’s dealing with that. He doesn’t even know that I know. I feel like he has enough on his plate right now. 
  * Does he really love me? Why the hell would he? ~~Fuck you hajime have some confidence will you? ur so sexy baby aha~~



Makki and Mattsun had helped(?) him with the list and while he’s still working through how to deal with all the shit in it, at least he’s acknowledged that the shit exists. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, resting his chin on the table, “Did you get Coach’s wedding invite?”

Hajime hums. “Yeah… time flies, huh? Remember when he spent the entire warm up time ranting about how his younger brother got engaged before him?”

“Maybe if he stopped wearing crocs earlier on in life, he wouldn’t have had that problem.” 

Hajime snorts. “Are you going?”

Oikawa sighs, “Yeah, probably. I said I would if I’m free that day. Are you?”

Hajime nods. “You should go,” He says, fondly taking in Oikawa’s state, booty shorts, glasses, pimple patches and everything, “We still… have things to talk about, right?”

Oikawa’s expression changes slightly at that and Hajime isn’t sure if it’s just nerves or fear. “Jeez, Iwa-chan,” He groans, banging his head on the table, “Can’t we just say it over chat and get it over with?”

Hajime almost wants to agree, but then again, “I don’t know… don’t you wanna be able to touch me when we do?”

Oikawa short circuits. “Hey, you think we can ask Coach to move his wedding to tomorrow?”

Hajime laughs. “Loser.”

Oikawa smiles, expression so tender that Hajime can feel it through the screen. 

“We’ll talk.” He says, “Once five hundred and six kilometers is back to zero.” 

“Yeah,” Hajime says softly, “Once it’s back to zero.” 

They let themselves indulge in the intimacy of the moment for a few seconds, before casually going back to their regularly programmed chaos.

“So, are you gonna dance the Blackpink song or what?”

“Oh yeah!”

And honestly _it’s funny,_ Hajime thinks, that he has a list of all these reasons why he’s too scared to want this, yet there’s only one reason why he wants it anyway. 

“Iwa-chan, look!” Oikawa yells, “Look at me backbend!”

**WHY HAJIME ISN’T THAT SCARED OF BEING WITH OIKAWA**

  * Because the thought of not being with him is even scarier.



__

“This is my first wedding.” Kindaichi says excitedly, adjusting his suit. “Well, technically my first one was my neighbor’s, but they got divorced after, like, three months so I don’t count it.”

“Was your neighbor Kim Kardashian?” Yahaba asks. 

“Who?”

“Iwaizumi-san, isn’t Oikawa-san supposed to be here?” Kunimi asks, “He said he bought us gifts from Osaka and I want them.” 

“Oh yeah, didn’t he say he got us matching Melody and Kuromi sleep masks? You were so excited for it to— OW.” Kindaichi is cut off with an elbow to the rib.

Kyoutani muffles a laugh. “Nerd.”

“Hey,” Kunimi glares, “Shut the hell up, Mr. I Have A Positive Pregnancy Test Tattooed On My Head.”

“I’m fucking calling him.” Mattsun says, raising a hand up to silence them, likened to a mom on the phone with her boss while her children scream in the background. “I’m scared he’ll make a grand entrance in the middle of the wedding and steal the spotlight.”

“He probably wore something sparkly too.” Makki adds, “Oh god, what if he appears coming down off a helicopter like Cher when she appeared as Donna’s grandmother in Mamma Mia 2.” 

“Then, he better sing Fernando.” Yahaba says. “Where the hell _is_ he? The wedding’s about to start.”

“You know what? Let’s just get inside.” Hajime says, pushing everyone into the double doors. “Trust me, if Oikawa arrives, we’ll hear him.”

Ever since they’d agreed to have _The Talk_ about _The Night_ after this wedding, Hajime had been half excited and half dreading this very day. He knew what he was going to say, in theory, which was _‘So, I’m in love with you, as it turns out but there’s a lot I don’t know and so much that I’m trying to stop being scared of, so can we take this slow?’_ but he had a feeling it’d just come out as, _‘So, you ever just feel. Gay and Afraid.’_ Not that Oikawa wouldn’t get that, because he probably would, but still. It didn’t feel fair to confess like that to a boy who’d apparently loved him from the very beginning.

Hajime wanted to face him head on, honestly, sincerely, because Oikawa deserved that after everything. Hajime was willing to do all the cringey sappy movie material shit if that’s what it’d take to make up for the years of him unknowingly breaking Oikawa’s heart even if he couldn’t have fucking known. Hell, if Oikawa wanted him to make a sparkly banner and sing Love Story by Taylor Swift, he’d do it, if only Hajime knew where the _fuck_ he was right now—

“Oh, it’s the vows.” Yahaba says, dancing in his seat a little. “This is my favorite part ‘cause this is when they say all the bullshit promises they’re eventually gonna break.” 

“It’s kinda like how when we started dating and you promised you’d try not to be a pain in the ass.” Kyoutani agrees. “Where’d that go?”

“Well, if we’re talking about ass pains, then shouldn’t _I_ be the one complai—“

“Guy, for Christ’s sake. We’re in a wedding, don’t talk about sex.” Hajime scolds.

“Okay, settle down, Mother Teresa.” Yahaba says, sinking back into his seat. “I just wanna hear the vows.”

As they all settle down to listen, Hajime zones out a little bit. 

He thinks about the first wedding he ever attended. He was with Oikawa, as he was during most of his firsts. They were around nine years old and their homeroom teacher got married to her boyfriend of six years. Hajime barely remembers shit from that wedding, but now that he’s in another one, he’s reminded of one part. 

Oikawa turning to him and smiling, before saying, “Iwa-chan, I want my wedding to be in a volleyball court!” 

And Hajime furrowing his eyebrows, saying, “I don’t know about that, maybe we can just have the afterparty there?”

Hajime didn’t understand the concept of marriage and weddings back then. To him, it was just some fancy party that two people throw when they’re in love. 

Looking back, maybe it’s just because they already did everything else together, so what was another thing? But it’s still kind of amazing. 

The fact that at nine years old, before he even understood the concept of love or romance, the first time he’d ever pictured himself getting married, he was standing right next to Oikawa Tooru.

“And I want you to know,” He hears his Coach say, eyes shining with unshed tears, “— that I don’t mind that I wake up at two in the morning ‘cause you always take up all the bed space. It’s waking up at two in the morning with your leg on my stomach, that makes me smile as I drift back to sleep, because it’s my reminder that I’m home.”

It’s around the time everyone is in tears that Hajime’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He doesn’t need to check to know who it is.

**Shittykawa**

**sent 2:48 pm**

Sorry Iwa-chan, I was on my way but got a call. 

I’m at the hospital right now with dad, he’s

Hajime doesn’t even read the rest of the message, turning to his friends and saying, “I have to go. Emergency. Oikawa. Sorry. I’ll explain later.” before running out the door, wondering why the hell they can’t have good things. 

__

“Dad?”

“... Yes?”

“Did you think I was kidding about punching you? I’ll do it.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t.” Oikawa agrees quickly, “But what the _fuck!_ You know that I ran here? I fucking _ran_ here! In a tuxedo! I thought my world was ending!”

“Well,” Yuto says, sitting up, “Maybe if you listened to the rest of my sentence before hanging up, you would’ve known that I just slipped on my way out of the sauna and messed up my leg.”

“I hate you.” Oikawa grunts, collapsing onto the chair next to his dad with a relieved sigh. “You’re so dumb. Are you trying to follow in my footsteps or something? I didn’t raise you to be that way, son.”

“You’re shaking.” Yuto notices, reaching out to take his son’s hands, warming them up, “I’m sorry.”

“You better be.” He huffs, folding his body in half, resting his head in his and his dad’s clasped hands. _“Fuck._ I was so scared.”

Yuto leans down to press a quick kiss to the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, see? Even gained some weight since you last saw me.”

Oikawa looks up at that, squinting his eyes, properly examining his dad’s physique. He straightens up once he’s satisfied. “You’re taking care of yourself?”

“Tooru, I’m the man who raised you.” Yuto laughs, “Give me a little credit, would you?”

“I would if you knew how to get out of the damn sauna properly.” Oikawa complains as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, “Now, I have to text Iwa-chan that I’m missing the damn wedding. I can’t go there looking like _this.”_

“What’s wrong with how you look? You look good!”

“I’m sweating _balls_.” Oikawa says with a pointed glare, “Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and we’re going home.”

Yuto purses his lips, seeing the way that the boy was trying to hide the fact that he was still trembling a little bit. “You really don’t need to worry about me as much as you do, you know.”

There’s a meaningful pause.

Oikawa’s voice is low and quiet when he says, “I can’t _not_ worry, dad. You can’t tell me not to worry if there’s even the slightest fucking chance that I could lose you.”

His lower lip wobbles as he gets the last word out, and that’s all Yuto really needs to pull him closer. 

“C’mere,” He soothes, rubbing his son’s back as he burrows his face in his dad’s chest. “It’s okay. You’re not losing me. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Oikawa sniffs, fingers playing with the back of Yuto’s shirt. “You can’t go anywhere,” He says pitifully, “You’re all I have.”

Yuto softly rubs the top of his head. “You know,” He sighs, “Hajime said the same thing… when I told him.”

Oikawa stiffens in his arms. “He knows?”

Yuto hums. “I told him after you left for Osaka. He took it alright. But that’s the first thing he said. Looked me straight in the eye and said, _‘You can’t. You’re all he has.’”_

Oikawa straightens up slightly to meet his dad’s eyes. “He never told me.”

“Well, we both know that you didn’t tell him for a reason.” Yuto explains, “And he wanted to respect that. But he was looking after you, in his own way, all this time.”

Oikawa smiles at that, but it looks slightly bitter. “I was talking all big about being strong and independent.” He chuckles under his breath, “But you two were still looking out for me, huh?”

“Tooru,” Yuto says, resting his hand on the back of his son’s neck, “I don’t know what’s going through your mind that you look like that right now, but you know how proud we are of you, right? You’ve done enough. You’ve done _so much.”_

He looks away. “Don’t say stuff like that, damn it.” He grumbles, “You’re gonna make me start crying for real.”

Yuto pauses for a short while, before decidedly holding him by the shoulders and pulling him up. “Okay, listen to me right now.”

“I’m listening.” Oikawa says petulantly.

“Have I ever told you,” He starts, “— how much you remind me of your mother?”

He scoffs. “Only, like, all the time.”

“Then, have I told you how much Hajime reminds me of her too?” 

That seems to catch the boy’s attention, as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, peeking up at his dad. 

He coughs, “How?”

“Well,” Yuto says, shuffling into a comfortable position, “In your mom and I’s relationship, she was usually the one who took charge. She was the more confident one, the goal-oriented one, the sociable one. And I was just… _jeez,_ I didn’t even have very many friends. I hung out with my parents more than anyone, all throughout high school.” 

“Loser.” Oikawa interjects.

“No.” Yuto says pointedly, “I guess I was just a little of an outcast. It was your mom who, once in a while, managed to get me out of my shell. You know when we had to tell your grandparents that she was pregnant? For once in my life, I wanted to be the one to take charge of that conversation.”

He smiles as he reminisces, “But when things started getting bad, when my parents started yelling that they didn’t raise me to be that way, that they’d kick me out of the house, she was _still_ the one who stepped up, looked my parents in the eye and said, _‘Please. You’re all he has.’”_

_Oh no,_ Oikawa thinks, _this is going to make him cry, isn’t it?_

“She was really something…” Yuto continues, “Larger than life, just like you. But the funny part was that she was actually a homebody. If it wasn’t related to volleyball, she would have rather stayed home. Kinda like Hajime, right?”

Oikawa manages a small smile at that. “Yeah.”

“Now that I think about it…” He says, pausing, trying to gather his thoughts, “She used to do something that you did too when you were a kid. She’d count miles.”

“Count miles?” 

“Since she was such a homebody, whenever her family had to go out of town for the summer or for the holidays, she’d always count how many miles away she was from her house and complain. She’d be like, _this is two hundred miles too god damn far, Yuto, I wanna go home.”_

Oikawa chuckles lightly at that. “I did that?” 

“Not exactly,” Yuto shakes his head, “You’d ask me to do it for you. Whenever we’d go to your grandparents’ house or go on ski trips, you’d tell me to search how far we were from home. So I’d tell you and ask why and you’d go, _‘I’m that far from Iwa-chan?! Dad, we have to go back!’”_

Throughout his life, Oikawa had learned that heartbreak feels like drowning, hell feels like promposals, and love comes in the form of Iwaizumi Hajime. But what he feels right now isn’t something that he could describe, and he learns that maybe not everything feels like something else. 

“I’m not all you have, Tooru.” His father says, with a look in his eyes that he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. “And you know that. You’ve known that since you were seven.”

When he reaches out, asking to be held, Yuto’s ready to hold.

And he thinks about Aya’s last words to him, that a home didn’t need to be great, it only needed to be warm.

He’s not sure how she meant it but he’s sure of one thing.

“OIKAWA, WHA—” Hajime bursts into the room, panting like a dog, eyes zeroing in on the cast around Yuto’s leg and the embrace that the two are wrapped in, “... —aaaaaat is this.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sniffs, pulling away, “We have to take dad home. He fell walking out of the sauna and hurt his leg.”

“.... He fell walking out the sauna and hurt his leg.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa says, “Didn’t you read my text?”

Hajime blinks, pulls his phone out of his pocket, swipes a few times, and then looks up vacantly. “I hate myself.”

Yuto chuckles, motioning for him to come in. “Sit down and drink some water, Hajime.”

“You can’t _scare_ us like that, Uncle,” Hajime sighs, running a hand through his hair as he reaches for a paper cup on the table, “I ran here! In a tuxedo! I thought his world was ending!” He says, pointing to his son.

“Exactly!” 

_It doesn’t need to be great, it only needs to be warm._

Yuto remembers like it was yesterday. A warm home was all she ever wanted for him. 

_He may not be made of brick or stone,_ Yuto thinks looking at Hajime, _but at least to Tooru, he’s a warm place from where distance is measured._

____

After they help Yuto settle down in his bedroom, the two are left sitting in stilted silence, waiting for whoever’s gonna be the brave soul to finally bring up _The Night._ Hajime keeps looking to his side, at the boy steadily gulping down water like a man who’d found a well in a desert, because he’d always been the braver one between the two of them. 

Seconds pass. And then minutes. 

Hajime looks down and realizes that Oikawa’s hands are shaking and he knows that right now, he needs him to be the brave one. 

Right now, he’s going to have to be the brave one. God help him.

“Wanna walk around?” Hajime asks. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

Oikawa looks at him and smiles. 

“You always know what I need, Iwa-chan,” He says and Hajime’s heart soars a little, both at the words and the grin on his face, “— but let me take a piss first because, _holy shit,_ I’m gonna explode.” 

Ah. “Charming.”

“Look at that.” Hajime points, “The fucking dent is still there. Isn’t that the bench you ran into when you were learning how to ride a bike?”

“Bike? Wasn’t it a skateboard?” 

“No, that was a few years later. And you didn’t run into a bench, that was a lightpost.” Hajime reminds him, “Wasn’t that when you insisted that you knew how, it’s just that _apparently,_ a wheel got caught on a pebble and you rolled down—“

“I _did_ know how and the wheel _did_ get caught on a pebble.” Oikawa huffs, “I’m _great_ at skateboarding.”

“Oikawa, you never touched another skateboard in your life.”

“That’s only because you got all protective and confiscated that one, so I thought it’d be a waste of time to get another one.”

Hajime raises his eyebrows. “When have I _ever_ been able to tell you what to do?”

“Ever since you learned how to throw punches that actually bruise my skin.” Oikawa complains. “Too strong for your own good… even your grip alone leaves bruises now.” He says under his breath.

He makes a face. “When the hell have I ever gripped you enough to—”

Oikawa looks at him, pointedly. 

Hajime pauses, realizing, and cutting himself off. “Oh… sorry.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind those kinds of bruises.”

(Lord_Have_Mercy.mp3)

Hajime had been waiting for them to breach this topic ever since _that_ morning he’d woken up to an empty apartment, but now that they were here, he didn’t know where to start. 

“We… should probably talk about that, shouldn’t we?” He ends up going with.

Oikawa’s quiet for a moment, as they walk slowly, looking at everything but each other. Eventually, Oikawa motions to the swingset nearby. “I wanna swing. Push me.”

Hajime sighs, in fond exasperation. “This again…” 

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Oikawa’s legs kick up in the air as Hajime pushes him, gently. “How much did I do this for you when we were kids?”

“A lot.” Oikawa chuckles, “In my defense, I’d always say that I’d push you next, but you’d never let me.”

“I wanted to go on the slides.”

“The slides were so _dirty.”_ Oikawa whines.

“Brat.” Hajime grumbles.

For a little while, it’s just back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, Hajime pushing as gently as he can, but Oikawa flying high anyway. 

“I knew when I was five.” Oikawa starts, without looking at Hajime. He says it like he’s starting a story, as he closes his eyes, tilting his face up towards the afternoon sun. “I had a crush on this kid in my preschool who shared his sandwich with me when dad forgot to pack my lunch. I didn’t even have a name for it yet… but I knew.”

Hajime stays quiet, continuing to push him. 

“I didn’t think there was anything different about me until other kids in my school found out and suddenly I was an outcast. No one wanted to be friends with the gay kid, you know? I didn’t really get it because when I told my dad, he didn’t care. Shit, I don’t even remember how he reacted and that’s saying something, because that means he really didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It’s Uncle Yuto.” Hajime says simply, “Of course, he wouldn’t.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa’s fingers tighten around the chains, “I had him. Always had him, so not having any friends didn’t matter that much, as long as I had him to come home to. Then, I met you and so I had the both of you. I remember being seven and thinking, _well, this is all I need.”_

He looks down at his lap, smiling. “It’s funny. I’m nineteen now and I still think that.”

Hajime stops pushing, letting Oikawa push himself back and forth with the balls of his feet. He leans against the bars, and listens to a part of his best friend’s life that’s been kept hidden from him all these years.

“I think it freaked me out more than I realized. The whole… having everyone suddenly be against me just because I liked boys. I mean, jesus, I was only _six_ the first time I got hit for being gay.” He exhales, “Giyuu wouldn’t even look at me anymore. So… when I met you, my first instinct was to hide it. I was scared to lose you before I even really had you.”

“So, I hid it and decided I was content with just being your best friend because, in a way, I was. If that was the only way I’d ever get to have you, then that was fine, because at least I _had you._ I convinced myself of that all the fucking time and thought it was working until Haruka happened, and I guess the part of me that was always secretly hoping you’d eventually love me back sort of… _well._ You get it.”

Hajime did get it.

“Remember our pact in middle school? The whole _let’s not go to prom and just play volleyball instead_ shtick. I remember feeling like _shit_ about it back then. I felt like I was a selfish, shitty best friend because the reason I even initiated that pact was so I could have you all to myself and pretend, just for one night, that I meant _more_ to you, because we’d be spending prom together. Had this whole stupid fantasy that you’d realize that you’re in love with me and we’d slowdance and have our first kiss. It was stupid.” Oikawa shakes his head, laughing humorlessly.

Hajime’s heart breaks.

“And then Haruka happened.” He says, looking up at Hajime for the first time, “It felt like a wake up call. And I came to this realization that I wouldn’t be able to hide my feelings for you forever, that you’d never love me back, and if you found out, you would leave me. And… I _couldn’t_ lose you. I _can’t_ lose you.”

Oikawa’s eyes turn glassy, so he looks away again. “I wouldn’t survive that.”

Hajime doesn’t know what to do, so he crouches down next to him, takes one of Oikawa’s hands in his own, and squeezes. He squeezes back.

“I was scared but I was preparing myself to lose you, anyway.” He says, voice shaky. “Because I learned that that’s just how it works when you’re gay. And figured, _well,_ no matter what fucking happens, at least I’ll have my old man.”

 _Shit,_ Hajime thinks. Oikawa doesn’t say more about that part. It’s like he doesn’t even have the heart to say it out loud, yet.

“Then, it just felt like the entire universe was conspiring against me.” He says, “It was this weird push and pull of wanting to stay close to my dad but wanting to get away so I could prove myself to be independent and trustworthy. Wanting to tell you everything because you always make things better, but wanting to prove to myself that I could live without you. And it made me so fucking _mad,_ that I went all the way to goddamn Osaka, did everything I said I would, yet I was so _miserable,_ until you came to see me. Because it was like, what the fuck was the point of all that then, you know?”

The first tear rolls down Oikawa’s cheek and he swipes at it hurriedly. “And I didn’t mean to run away after that night, okay? I didn’t. Because shit, I was so _happy._ I was so… I didn’t even think I had a chance and suddenly I did.” He says a little frantically, “But I was scared out of my fucking mind. Scared that if I asked you, you’d tell me you were drunk and didn’t mean it. Scared that if I faced you, you’d tell me it was a one time thing. Scared that if we suddenly change things, I’d lose you faster. Scared that I’d lose you, then lose dad... then lose _me.”_

At this point, Hajime’s kneeling in front of the boy, mud and grass getting on his fancy tuxedo, but whatever. 

Oikawa’s hands clasped tightly in his own, he asks, “Is it my turn to talk?”

Oikawa sniffs and nods weakly.

“Do you know what I thought about you when we were seven?” He asks.

“That I was annoying?”

“I still think that.” He answers, “But my first thought was that you took up too much space.”

He smiles. “I feel like I’ve heard that said about me too many times to count.”

“It’s weird ‘cause I associated that so much with why my parents didn’t work out, but with you… it didn’t bother me.”

“I thought you said I was annoying?”

“That’s not because you take up too much space, that’s just because you’re a dick, like you’re being right now. Are you gonna let me finish?”

“Ah.” Oikawa nods, “Okay. Go back to saying nice things.”

“Honestly, looking back now, I think maybe I kind of always knew how I felt about you, I just didn’t know what it was. The thought that I could like guys didn’t really cross my mind until puberty hit the both of us and you got… I’m not gonna say it, you _know_ how you look.” 

“Iwa-chan thinks I’m _sexy.”_

“Iwa-chan had a dick in your ass two months ago, shut up.” Hajime bites back, freeing one of his hands to smack him gently on the side of the head.

“And about Haruka,” He says, heaving out a loaded sigh, “— the only reason that happened was because that’s when I realized that my feelings for you were _definitely_ more than platonic, I thought you were straight, I was scared as hell, I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship, and I was convinced that I could make it go away, except it didn’t work. And then, well… you know what happened. I broke up with her and I was debating whether or not I should confess to you, but you decided to up and move to Osaka, and then everything with your dad…”

Oikawa snorts. “It’s just been a mess for us, huh?”

“Seriously.” Hajime agrees, “It’s like we can’t have good things. Also, my fucking legs are asleep, can you help me up?”

The boy laughs as he stands from the swing, pulling Hajime up with him. “You’re so stupid, you got your slacks all dirty.”

“Tooru.”

He looks at him. “Hmm?”

“I slept with you that night because I wanted to. Not just in the moment, not just at the time. I wanted to and have wanted to and _still_ want to.” He says and makes sure his voice doesn’t waver because he means it. “And more than that. I want… a lot more than that.”

Oikawa looks like he’s about to start crying and Hajime won’t be able to handle that, so he attempts to finish his confession speech faster. 

“But also, right now I’m still… Gay and afraid,” _God fucking damn it,_ “Knowing I could feel like this is kinda new to me, and all the fucking things you talked about being scared of a while ago? I’m scared of those things too. Hell, even right now, I’m thinking _how could we make this work when I’m gonna be in Tokyo and he’s gonna be in Osaka,_ all that shit that I know you’re thinking about too.”

“But I also know… that I really fucking love how much space you take up. I love watching you live your life, _being there_ while you live your life, fully knowing you’d fucking blossom even without me or without your dad, despite whatever the hell you think. Uncle Yuto and I both know there’s enough of you to rule not just the court, but the goddamn _world.”_ He says, wiping away Oikawa’s tears when he predictably starts crying, _“_ And _fuck_ space. I’ve had enough of thinking about the goddamn... _space_ between us, I’ve had enough of it, god damn it!”

Oikawa laughs wetly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, honestly, but I like where you’re going with this.”

“I don’t care how much space you take up.” He says, cupping the boy’s face with both his hands, “This scares the shit out of me, but that’s just how it’s gonna be, because it’s you for me. It’s you for me, okay?”

“And I _know_ that because I don’t know anyone in the fucking world who takes up more space than you, but you’re the only one I never had to make room for. I want to be with you. That’s what I want.” 

He takes a deep breath, remembers what Oikawa told him that night, barely awake, and decides he’s gonna have to change that. 

“What do _you_ want?”

And Oikawa has tears streaming down his face, hands clutching onto Hajime’s wrists like a lifeline. But he smiles, the _real_ smile that he barely ever sees, as he says, “I already told you what I wanted.”

Hajime furrows his brows. “What?”

“I told you,” Oikawa sniffs, gently removing Hajime’s hands from his face. He places one on his waist, taking the other one in his hand, interlacing their fingers together, before resting his free hand on Hajime’s shoulder. “I just wanted to slow dance with you in that stupid prom.”

Hajime smiles, squeezing his hand, and nodding. Because Oikawa deserved to experience his stupid prom. “Okay.”

And it’s kind of ridiculous. 

The fact that they’re two grown men wearing tuxedos, slow dancing to no music, arms around each other, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, swaying and moving across an empty children’s playground as the sun sets. There’s mud on Hajime’s knees, drying tears on Oikawa’s face, and he laughs when he finally notices where exactly they are. 

“Hey, Tooru?” Hajime laughs, talking gently into Oikawa’s ear, “Look up.”

They both do and are met with thick, long branches covered in both brown and green leaves. If they crouched down and looked hard enough, they’d find an _IH + OT_ engraved somewhere on the bark. 

Hajime smiles fondly, “This is exactly where we first met.”

Oikawa pulls back, laughing, reaching up to trace Hajime’s jaw with his fingers, “You know, my dad told me something a while ago.”

Hajime hums.

“Apparently,” He whispers, rubbing the tips of their noses together, “I measure distance by however far I am from you.”

It’s with those words that they finally close the remaining space between them, lips pressing together like pieces finally falling into place.

And it’s kind of funny. 

For a place that always felt like it was out of their reach, now that they’re here, he feels like in more ways than one, all they really did was go back to right where they first started.

__

**Iwaizumi Hajime**

**Class 6-B**

_Family is when you don’t mind making some room._

**Oikawa Tooru**

**Class 6-B**

_Family is when you see them and think, ‘I’m home!’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to:  
> \- A Filipino series on Youtube/Netflix called Gaya Sa Pelikula (Like In The Movies) that inspired the 'prom' scene. Also, two songs from the OST: [Ride Home by Ben&Ben](https://open.spotify.com/album/308xacxloeHSt2tzLCWli0) and [Kilometer Zero by Ian Pangilinan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E20TFnUvgfs) (There's english lyrics if you turn on the captions!) that inspired the title and the underlying theme.  
> \- My friend from high school who was the inspiration for Oikawa's dad, who's been sick with cancer for awhile now but we all always forget 'cause she's vibing all the time. 'Oh. Woops. I never told you guys but I have cancer. I'm fine, though.' is pretty much how she told us. I'll never fucking forget that. I always pray that she outlives us all.  
> \- Most importantly, my childhood best friend and first love. Thank you and see? I write about you, still. 
> 
> Let's make room for those who have lost their sense of home.


End file.
